The second Prince
by Darkenwood
Summary: Arthur has tried to do his duty as a Prince and as a son, but he ends up being in more danger from his own father than from anyone else. Will Uther Pendragon really kill his son? Who's an enemy, who's a friend in this web of deception and hurt?
1. The great entry

**Summary: **Roughly eight months after the events in the series 3 finale Camelot seems to have settled down, but behind the scene tensions are rising. Arthur has been effectively ruling the realm while Uther has been suffering from shock and the aftermath of the traumatic experiences Morgana's betrayal had given him. Or has he? What does the King know of his son's doings, and, what's more important, what does he think of them?

Arthur believes the visit of his Aunt Matilda, Comtesse d'Auvergne and her son Hortensius Pendragon will help his father to get over things. However, what begins as a harmless, if somewhat annoying family visit quickly turns into something more sinister. As Arthur's construct of lies and pretences, thought to protect Uther from getting even worse, begins to tumble, some begin to fear that his own father might become the worst enemy the Crown Prince of Camelot ever had - and the most lethal one.

Loyalties and affections are tested to the limits when Camelot has to make up her mind whom she should follow in future - father or son?

Both Pendragons change their ways decisively, finding new enemies they would never have thought of, as well as new allies in the most unlikely places. Friends become foes while enemies suddenly appear to be friends but at the end of the day it seems as if the King is holding all the cards. It may well be that a Prince's and a warlock's destiny will find a shameful end on a scaffold that sports a Dragon-banner in the colours red and gold ...

**1. The great entry**

"My, aren't we high and mighty" Merlin whistled softly through his teeth while he looked out of Arthur's window. "Is this an escort or an invasion army? So far I count 10 knights and, wait... 30 guard soldiers all in all. Isn't it a bit showy to bring an escort that outnumbers the host's castle guard?"

Behind him Gwen craned her neck to have a peep of her own at the events in the yard. "Is _this_ the Comte?"

"I should think so" Merlin replied. "He looks the perfect aristocratic prat." His opinion of the elderly Lady on the creamy white palfrey he wisely kept to him self. Especially the opinion of her tarted up dress.

"Merlin! You should not say such things. You do not even know him" Guinivere said dutifully. Unfortunately her own curiosity made her virtually dance around her friend to have a better look at things which spoiled her air of moral superiority somewhat.

"Look at that armour, Gwen. Is that really gold on this breast plate? Who on earth would use such a soft metal on armour? And this coat. I swear that's pure silk. In sea-green. Ridiculous."

Gwen gazed at him most punitively. "After more than three years as a Prince's manservant even you should be able to distinguish a dress armour from an armour fit to wear in a fight." Now in a more comfortable position behind the window pane she scrutinized the newcomers more thoroughly. "For sure, Arthur hasn't got anything like this in his chests" she said, frowning. "And the knights of his escort! Are those real bird feathers on their helmets?"

"Does make perfect sense, doesn't it?" Merlin said, chuckling menacingly. "A bunch of bombastic cockerels and one fat hen to accompany a strutting peacock."

He made a face while he watched Camelot's Crown Prince greeting the guests on the steps to the great hall. "Whatever for does the idiot slap Arthur's shoulder? Shouldn't he at least bow to his host? Last time I checked he was a mere Count or whatever they call someone like him in Gaul. Why Arthur insisted on waiting for them outside instead of receiving them in the throne room is beyond me anyway."

"You are getting very grand, My Lord" Gwen said mockingly. "He may be the Comte d'Auvergne but he is the only son of King Uther's sister, and the Comtesse is Arthur's aunt after all..."

…."And her son is Arthur's cousin and a member of the royal house of Pendragon and so on and so forth – spare me the lecture, Gwen, I already got it from Arthur. Although I still do not even begin to understand why this fellow should be a Pendragon in the first place. All right, he's the son of Uther's sister who married a so called Count somewhere on the continent. But shouldn't he be the son of Uther's _brother_ in order to share the Pendragon family name?"

"The right to give the Pendragon name and its royal rank to her son was part of the Lady Matilda's dowry contract. Don't tell me that Arthur didn't spell this out for you" Gwen replied. "Anyway, since when are you so fond of aristocratic genealogy and its protocols?"

"Since Morgana's temporarily accession to the throne made me realize the importance of the going-ons in royal beds and cradles" Merlin stated, only to bite his lower lip in remorse. The betrayal of her former mistress and best friend was still painful to Gwen, as he well knew.

Hastily he tried to cover up his blunder. "I still don't see why you have to move out of Arthur's quarters just because this oaf in shiny armour and his preposterous mother show up. They haven't even entered the castle and already Arthur is going out of his way for them and you..." He shrugged angrily. "It has been eight months now since we retook Camelot from Morgause" - no use mentioning Morgana again - "and no one, absolutely no one objected to you moving in here, not even Sir Leon or any of the other knights. They all accept what you are to the Crown Prince, so why can't this supercilious bunch of would-be royalty just do the same?"

"Because our Prince hasn't told his father anything about us" she said, the faculty of reason while she collected the rest of her things. "The King has no idea that in effect his son is running the Kingdom and the army. Most of all, he surely does not know that his heir and a handmaiden are together. And for obvious reasons Arthur wants to keep it that way. Uther still is a very sick man, every shock or tension could kill him or finish off his sanity. You know all that, Merlin."

"I still can't see what this has to do with these crooning birds in borrowed feathers out there" the warlock stubbornly insisted.

Smiling radiantly she came closer to him and pecked a quick kiss on his cheek, stifling a laughter when he backed away as if he had been burned, wiping his face frantically with both hands. "Hey, what was that for? Aren't you supposed to save your kisses for somebody else?"

"I couldn't help myself, you are so very sweet, Merlin. I know you have given this same earful to Arthur many times, and all for nothing. The Countess-Dowager Matilda and Monseigneur Hortensius Pendragon, Comte d'Auvergne are here on Uther's invitation. The King is very fond of them, Arthur wants this visit to be a respite for his father and as his dear kin are very nosy as well as horrible gossip-mongers, we will all go back to our former lives until they leave."

"Hortensius!" her friend said sarcastically. "Who in his right mind would name a child Hortensius?"

"Actually it's even worse. Hortensius Godfrey Beccasius Malfren Pendragon is his full name. Which made for 'Becco' when he was a kid." Quickly she unloaded a part of her stuff into Merlin's arms. "So you better don't forget: You are Arthur's manservant, I am just one of the serving girls, our unaristocratic knights Alean, Gwaine and Lancelot are on their best aristocratic behaviour – and as far away from Uther as is humanly possible. That's an end to it. It's only for a few weeks, two months at most."

Grudgingly Merlin helped her carry her stuff to the servants' quarters where it would be temporarily stored until this absurd situation would end. The sooner the better, in his opinion. Monseigneur could go and rot for all he cared, if only he did it somewhere else. As could Madame.

"I still think Arthur should have made his take-over official" he said while they made a combined effort to close the chest in which they had stuffed her be longings. "Sooner or later our precious King is bound to find out what's really going on in Camelot and then all hell will break loose, mark my words."

"You better go now" Gwen said, ignoring his last remark. "Arthur expects you to serve at the table during lunch, in case you have forgotten." With a last good-bye smile she went out. At least Arthur had been sensible enough to send her home to her own little house in town for the time being.

Angrily muttering to himself Merlin made his way back to the castle's official rooms. As expected he found his royal friend, his kinfolk and their entourage in Camelot's stately dining room, ready to sit down for lunching. Merlin cast one look at his Prince and sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long ordeal and with Arthur being in _this_ mood after only a few minutes...

Silently Merlin resumed his familiar place behind Arthur's chair, heaving a sigh of relief at the sight of Uther's own servant Cedric taking his place behind the King's seat. At least Arthur's servant would not be expected to serve the others. Uther's personal man outranked him, after all. The warlock risked a furtive look at the King and coughed softly to hide his gasp of surprise. It had been many a week since Uther Pendragon had looked that animated and good-humoured. He chatted happily away with his nephew, apparently exchanging news about continental tournaments.

"_Well, let's be grateful for small blessings" _Merlin thought._ "If anything this should brighten up a certain Prince's day a bit!_"

"Wine, Your Highness?" the warlock then asked, all duty and subservience for once while he raised the tankards. "Red or white?"

Daintily the Comtesse dabbed at her painted lips. "Really, my dear Arthur" she said. "I see you still have no idea of how to train a servant. Shouldn't the boy know that it is white wine with the fish soup? The red wine is much too dry and heavy. It will go perfectly with the venison later on."

Incredulously Merlin looked at the plates and terrine on the serving cabinet. Fish soup. The old hag was perfectly right. Fish soup, of all things. Camelot's Bouillabaisse was renowned to be divine but Arthur _hated_ the stuff. Under no circumstances it was to be served to him. Even Uther heeded this iron rule, at least since his then 10 years old son had vomited for sheer disgust, all over the banquet table during the first official dinner he had ever attended. The Mercian delegates had not been amused but the banquet had found its way into the Arthurian legends of Camelot's servants' quarters.

The warlock in disguise stared helplessly first at Arthur's face, then at the King's. Both didn't give him a clue. However, he soon realized that he himself had come into the focus of a much more thorough scrutiny. "Uther, why is it that your servants always look as if they have slept in a dustbin?" Matilda said. "What has become of this nice red livery I once created for your servants to wear on official occasions?"

"_I should have known_" Merlin thought as the truth dawned on him. "_Them bloody feathers_!"

"Really, dear brother, you must see to these things, it's most important to keep up standards in a household" Matilda meanwhile rambled on. "This boy's neckerchief for example. I swear it smells!"

"You are perfectly right Aunt Matilda" Arthur said, shoving his chair back while rising. "I understand that the servant's presence must be an undue imposition on you. I'll make sure that he changes immediately..."

"But Arthur, you are going to miss the soup if you go now." His Aunt's high pitched voice caught the Prince in his first step towards safety. "I send the recipe special to your father. I know you don't like the usual style of Bouillabaisse, but this you will adore, it smacks so much more of fish..."

"I am sorry to miss it, Aunt, but as you said, it's important to keep up standards..."

"Sit down, Arthur!" Uther roared impatiently and glared at his son. Camelot's Crown Prince and effective ruler resumed his seat without another word.

Merlin saw all muscles in his master's shoulders tense and sighed again. From what he had seen and heard so far this was going to be an even worse ordeal for all of them than he had anticipated. But then, he might as well get it over with. Resolutely he strode to the serving cabinet, took the terrine, feigned a little stumble and a second later the damned thing lay on the floor, broken into many, many pieces, with the soup pooling all around it. Merlin thought that he had seen some fishy situations in this room, but never one as fishy as this one. "Oh, sorry" he said.

Uther was the first one to regain the use of his voice. "Arthur, take this walking disgrace out of my sight. He is to be put to the whipping pole at once. Three dozens lashes, not one less, you hear me?"

"Yes, father. As you wish!"

A minute later an enraged Prince pushed his manservant against the corridor wall, a few steps away from the dinning room door. "What was this for? Didn't I tell you that I need your support in this? This isn't a game. My father isn't himself. Provoking him can be dangerous, for him _and_ for you, you idiot!"

"Wouldn't have done any good if you had thrown up the old hag's special recipe right into her fat lap" the warlock replied. "This way it was at least my fault, not yours. _And_ I can keep my neckerchief."

"Is there anyone in Camelot who doesn't know the story of my first banquet?" a much less enraged Prince asked, trying hard to not let show the smile which was forcing its way to his face.

"Nope. Not a single soul, I'm afraid. Except your Aunt and Cousin, that is."

Arthur shook his head in exasperation. "Well, now that the harm is done, we can as well make the best of it. Your misplaced heroics at least give me an hour of spare time." He gave up the fight against the grin and slapped Merlin on the back, hard. "I will spend it in my chambers, looking at some reports that came in this morning and you will go to the kitchens like the nice, obedient servant you've never been and fetch me some lunch."

"Yes, Sire!" Merlin turned round in a military style and made haste to get away, silently congratulating himself on his smart move.

"And, Merlin." Arthur's call brought the other man to an abrupt halt.

"What?"

"Stay out of my father's sight for a few days, will you? You are supposed to have been given a severe flogging!"

"All right, Sire. Although the real punishment is much worse than any flogging. To think that I should miss out on all these heart-warming family events..."

"Get lost, Merlin!"

"Yes Sire. As you wish!"

Ten minutes later the warlock stumbled into Arthur's chambers, precariously balancing a heavily loaded tray in one hand and a well filled water jar in the other, together with a bottle he had somehow tucked between his body and his elbow.

With much gusto Arthur watched his friend's fight to put it all down on the table; this time without breaking or spilling anything.

"You could help me a bit, you know" Merlin said, panting heavily after the last plate and cutlery had made it safely to the table.

"No, why?" Arthur asked, blue eyes all innocence. "It's much more fun if I don't."

Merlin gave him his severest look while he laid out the table. When he had finished he gave his handiwork a most appraising gaze, cocked his brow and waved towards the table invitingly. "Your lunch is served, Your Highness!"

"I would rather have it here, on my desk, if you please."

"_**Arthur!**_"

"All right, all right, I'm coming" the Prince lost the struggle against his chuckling while he rose, reports still in his hand. "What's in that bottle, anyway?"

"Brandy! The strong sort. I thought you might need it in the days to come. After all you will have to brave them out without my protection, Sire."

"Get out of my sight, you insolent brat!"

The last thing Merlin saw before he got out of the room was Arthur, usually a model of abstemiousness during daylight hours, treating himself to a triple of the strong liquor. The wizard was still sniggering to himself when he reached Gaius' quarters.

Alas, his merriment ended as soon as he made it in. "Merlin. Where on earth have you been?" a most agitated Court Physician exclaimed. "I have heard the wildest rumours about what happened in the dining room. What have you been up to?"

"I have saved the Crown Prince's backside, again. Without my quick-witted response to the situation His Royal Highness would either have made a complete fool of himself or died of the unwholesome consumption of fish soup á la Matilda. And I earned myself a sentence of three dozens lashes for my troubles from Uther. Afterwards I fetched lunch for Arthur from the kitchen. In other words, I have just done my usual chores."

"Three dozens!"

"Calm down, Gaius. It's not as if Arthur would have me whipped. He said I should stay out of Uther's sight for a while which is perfectly fine with me as long as these poor relatives are batting on Camelot's all too ready hospitality."

"This isn't funny. The whole stronghold is already bustling with what Uther told his family about what he would do to you! Matilda and her son are thinking to watch the execution of the punishment, in case you're interested in such fine details. Do you have any idea of what Arthur would have to deal with if his father were to find out that most of his orders are simply ignored nowadays?"

"Well, Arthur will have to think of something" a suddenly very uneasy warlock said hesitatingly.

"Well, all the better that at least one of you has the capacity to think at all. How often have I told _you_ to _think_, Merlin? So you are to stay out of Uther's sight for a few days, huh? And what about other people seeing you, running around freely and unharmed? There's Bessy who gave you Arthur's lunch, at a time when you should have been tied to the whipping pole. Bessy tells Nancy, Nancy tells Matthews, Matthews tells his brother Malcolm that, the Gods be praised, you've been seen bright eyed and bushy tailed, Malcolm makes a harmless remark next time Uther visits the stables and Arthur is stuck in hot water, up to his neck!"

"So far Uther hasn't smelled a rat, and it has been eight months since Arthur diverted power to himself!" Merlin would not give in without at least trying to redeem his clever actions in the eyes of his worried guardian.

"And most of the time Uther has been sick in bed or at least confined to his rooms" Gaius replied heatedly. "The only persons to see him were Cedric, Arthur and me. Now that he's up and about, Arthur will be hard put to keep this charade going, even without his nosy relatives snooping around."

Merlin shrugged defiantly, at a loss of what to say to that. As he agreed wholeheartedly with Gaius on that score it was hard to find some arguments against it.

"I've always said that Arthur has to take charge officially, even if it is only temporarily" Gaius went on. "But he stubbornly refuses. He won't commit treason against his father! That's all well and good in theory. But what does he think Uther will say if he finds out that his son has been ruling Camelot for almost a year? And think of the things Arthr has done! This will _be_ High Treason in Uther's opinion; he won't care about his son's motives. So there's nothing for it, Merlin!"

The last words startled the wizard out of his uncomfortable brooding. "What?"

"You are to stay in our quarters for at least two weeks, better three weeks. They need a thorough cleaning anyway, my books need to be sorted, your clothes need mending, I could do with your help in copying my latest notes on magical poisons and my leach tanks haven't been cleaned in weeks..."

"No, wait Gaius, you can't..."

"I can and I will, young man. Up you go, fetch your writing things, we can start copying the notes right now. Perfect opportunity to improve your handwriting."

"Gaius, no, I..."

"Merlin, go and fetch your writing things!"

With his head hanging low Merlin trotted to his room for his stuff. There were moments when Gaius could be much worse than Arthur, even in his vilest moods.


	2. A family breakfast

**2. Family breakfast**

"Really, my dear Uther..." Matilda began and all the fine hairs in Arthur's neck were standing on edge. Who would have ever thought it possible that a young knight of royal birth could develop such a violent aversion against an innocent word like 'really' after only four weeks? But really, if this old bag were to use the word 'really' again before this breakfast was over, he really would...

"I really must say, dear Uncle..." Hortensius chimed in, "the prospect of taking part in one of Camelot's Grand Tournaments was so very exhilarating; something to really take pride in. It was so very disappointing when Arthur told me that there is no chance to have a tournament any time soon..."

Uther laughed out loud and his son's much lightened-up face turned towards him immediately. This was a sound Arthur had been deprived of for a very long time. "I can hardly believe this" the King said. "The Prince of Camelot missing an opportunity to have a tournament? You have misheard your Cousin, Becco, you must have."

Arthur's shoulders sank. He was way pass the days he had been fond of tournaments. "Forgive me, father, but he has not" he said as respectfully as he possibly could. "Please remember, the costs of last years skirmishes, the loss of life as well as of money and capital. The troops are still rebuilding, newly trained men can't really cope with all there is to do, our patrols are not yet back to their old strength. Our resources are spread too thin as it is..." his voice trailed off while he completed his speech only inwardly "we don't need _some additional aristocratic revelries to pass time we don't have_. _Time __**I **__don't have. I' can't cope as it is and here I am wasting my day with this... this..."_

But even with his last thoughts being silent, his objections brought an angry frown to Uther's face. "Nonsense. Listen to you. One might think Camelot is on her last legs. I will hear no more of this rubbish. Naturally we can bring our annual tournament forward a month or two."

"_Gods help me_" Arthur thought while a headache began to creep from his tensed neck muscles to the back of his head "_now I'm really going mad_!"

"With all due respect, Sire, this is hardly possible. Even if we were to have our Grand Tournament this year at all" and he gave his chuckling Aunt a hard stare "we were to have it at the usual time. Otherwise we would steal our people away from field work. We didn't schedule our tournaments between sowing and harvesting for nothing."

Arthur knew he sounded like a lecturer, boring, arrogant and unendurably overbearing; he saw his father's features fall under the horribly ill-timed berating but once he had begun he couldn't stop. Figures, lists, reports, requests – it all tumbled through his mind, especially those he hadn't even found the time to read. "Besides, we always held a great market at the same time."

All these endless hours his father didn't know of. All these hours he had spent with the obstinate merchants who had had no interest at all in a market that would _not_ be accompanied by a tournament. He had talked and talked, smiled, threatened, promised and bargained until they had agreed. Agreed on a _fixed_ date between two other fairs near Camelot, so that it would be worth their while..."We can't miss out on the revenue from the wool-trade and the other merchants, father, we simply can't, we can't afford it..."

"_**Enough**_!" Uther's fist crashed on the table, effectively stifling everything Arthur had still had to say. "Do you think I need _you_ to teach _me_ how to run _my_ Kingdom? I want your apology for this outrage and I want it now!"

Arthur stared down, on the table's brocade-covered surface and bit his lips. "_Sorry_" he wanted to say. "_I spoke out of line. Please forgive me. It was my fault entirely_. _Please_." But he found he couldn't say it. It proved to be a physical impossibility. His throat constricted, his tongue felt like a dead piece of wood, no matter how hard he tried, the words didn't come to him. He rubbed his eyes and found that his fingers were trembling.

"I say, dear brother. What a way to spoil a perfect breakfast" With a smile a bit too sweet to be pleasing, Matilda, of all people, came to her nephew's rescue. "These boys and their sports. Really, it's beyond me why these silly tournaments are so very important. Surely that wasn't worth to spoil a very fine table cloth? I don't think Arthur meant any harm. He will find another way to let his cousin show off a bit, won't you, Arthur?"

"Maybe" the Prince pressed out "I could schedule a jousting with the lances among ourselves for tomorrow. My men need training any way. Bringing a little contest into it could do no harm."

"There, you see?" Matilda exclaimed and clapped her hands enthusiastically. "What a wonderful idea. The lance is my Horty's favourite weapon."

"Yes, mother, but a training fight is not what I..."

"What a marvellous thing that _your_ men need the training" Uther cut Hortensius short. His face very pale and his voice low he glared at his son venomously. "How grateful we all should be for your willingness to humour us."

"Gods, Uther, boys are like that" Matilda said. "Maybe he's only tired. Some girl in the town, I shouldn't wonder. Eh, Arthur? Some moonlight courting? A handmaiden, perhaps? Or a seamstress?"

Caught off-guard Arthur just gawked at his Aunt's friendly twinkling eyes. If it _was_ friendliness he was looking at. Suddenly he wasn't sure any more.

"My dear, if you will excuse us" Uther said with a strained smile. "My son and I have some things to discuss..." but his sister simply ignored him and patted Arthur's ice-cold hand. "Off you run, my boy. I'm sure you have better things to do right now than wasting your time with some foolish relatives. All these preparations for tomorrow, yes?"

Furtively Arthur looked at his father who as an answer barked at his son angrily. "You've heard your Aunt. We can talk later. Now get lost!"

Silently Arthur bowed to his father and hurried out. Outside he vanished into the first available empty room and leaned against the wall, thoughts whirling inside his head. Why on earth had he brought up this stupid idea of a jousting tomorrow? Who the hell should _do_ the jousting? Leon, Tristan, the others – on patrol, collecting taxes, safeguarding valuable transports or doing whatever it took to keep the realm running without every predator on the thrones and castles all around Camelot's borders noticing that the once powerful Pendragon rule over a still potentially very prosperous, very desirable realm was barely keeping up.

And to keep up the outer appearances of power _was_ important. Showing weakness or a desire for peace was an invitation for others to come and cut one's throat; Arthur had drank in this axiom with the milk of his wet-nurse. The Prince of Camelot hadn't grown up in a time or among people where treaties really meant much. His father had seen to him having the advantage, had seen to getting a cut of each and every cake; and so had all the others. Whose labour and toil had brought about the spoils the predators shared in with much growling and snapping at each others' heels had never been an important issue in this world. Privately Arthur thought that there should be another way to go about things; he had begun to work for this other way to become reality. Sometimes, in his happiest moments, he had been sure that, should his father ever regain his mental capabilities, Uther would accept, maybe even appreciate the measures his son had taken. Right now this seemed like sheer, stupid daydreaming. Right now...

Once again, Arthur shoved the thought of what his father would say to the things he had done during the last nine months resolutely to the back of his mind. Right now he had a jousting to plan. The probably most unimportant, most superfluous, most childish jousting match he had ever taken part in. At the same time it was the most unavoidable one. And there was so much else to do. The latest reports from the Southern border were very alarming and as he could meet with the Council Members only one or two at a time and mostly at night he'd better schedule the most urgent meetings with the Barons and Notables for tonight.

He sighed desperately. Surely he'd need at least half the night to talk the obstinate nobles into helping him out with troops and knights for an expedition to the Southern border, to show the flag.

However, as much as he wished to just send his knights and to hell with the Council, he was in no position to do just that. Baron Ravenclaw, the old, shrewd lynx, had made sure of that when he withdrew a whole contingent of his soldiers from the Camelot guard, under the irrefutable pretext that raiders and wolf-heads were harassing his estates and people. "True enough" the old warrior had said, with a good-humoured wink "coming from Mercian territory, these attackers are not a responsibility of the Camelot Crown but I have to protect what is mine. My sacred duty, is it not?"

The very day Ravenclaw had set the example, two other Barons had followed suit with their own men. Doubtlessly others would follow soon.

Now Camelot's own troops, pitifully depleted by last year's wars with Cendred and Morgause's immortal army, the ranks only just restaffed with newly trained, inexperienced men, were on duty constantly; with the knights as a substitute for the dead officers. They were doing a tremendous job; especially Elyan, Lancelot and Gwaine got along with the peasant soldiers and new petty officers perfectly. That this duty kept his not so very aristocratic knights pretty much away from the citadel and an increasingly restive Uther was another asset.

However, this did not mean that they could cut themselves and their men into halves, to cover more territory or more chores.

If Arthur wanted – in fact depended – on the Barons' men for anything, he had to pay for them. It was _that_ simple.

"Naturally" old Ravenclaw had said, smiling like the friendly uncle Arthur had once thought him to be, "things would be different if Your Highness could find it in you to officially take the throne. It would be an old man's sacred duty to stand by his young King through hell and high water, and I am not the only one who says so. We all have every confidence in you, my boy. Every confidence, upon my honour. But in your father..."

The sly face had still been a model of warm-hearted kindness when he had tut-tutted and shook his head doubtfully. "I won't repeat some of the things the others say about King Uther. For more than thirty years I have been a liegeman to Camelot, first to the Dubois, then to the Pendragons, so I do know my place. Your Highness will not hear a word about 'spend forces', 'utter lunacy' or 'magical bastard daughters', 'bloody hypocrisy' or 'making too many enemies among sorcerers' from me, oh no. But maybe after all these years as a Member of the Council I have earned the right to give my Prince some word of advice."

Arthur had frozen in awkward surprise when the other man actually had laid his hand on his Prince's shoulder. "You see, honour, honesty and a good will – it's all well and good and I will not say that your father did not have them abundantly when he started. But a King must also have fortunateness, my boy. The kind of fortunateness that sometimes goes away from men who have done too many great deeds. Or the wrong ones. It's a question of perspective. You haven't made many enemies of your own. You've always fought enemies old Uther has made in his time. You still could enter alliances, alliances which are closed to your father by more obstacles and reasons than I could count on my ten fingers. A realm needs a King that can fight a war if it is unavoidable, hold up inner and outer peace whenever possible and can hold up his prestige without constant military glory. King Uther still craves his prestige but the wars that brings he leaves to you and we are no longer willing to risk our necks for that."

With a last slap on the shoulder he had left his Prince. "Think it over, son."

A still speechless Crown Prince had seen the old Baron meeting with some other Council Members in front of the office doors, calming the obviously agitated men with some soothing gestures – and some more words of advice: "Give him time to think, my friends. He will see reason soon enough. If he does not, his empty coffers will force him to."

Recruiting cost money, foraging, equipping, housing and rewarding soldiers, horses, train and baggage – war was an expensive business, even in peacetimes. _Especially_ in peacetimes, with no defeated enemy to pay the victor's bills. Now Camelot's once well filled coffers were indeed running low. Without the revenue from the merchants and the markets Arthur could as well forget about keeping his peoples' bellies filled _and_ their safety up during next winter and if this winter was going to be as long and hard as the last one had been... Who on earth could think of _tournaments_ in such times?

"Oh, Great Mother, no" Arthur muttered miserably. "The jousting match."

Only now he realized that he had been sitting on the empty room's floor for a very long – indeed an irresponsibly long – time. "_Rise and shine, Arthur Pendragon_" he told himself. "_There's so much work to do_."

Just when he had made it back to his feet someone entered the room hastily. "Your Highness. I've been looking everywhere for you to make sure that you could not be found."

"Cedric. How often did I tell you not to sneak on me! And what the hell is that supposed to mean." Uther's son was used to his father's servant being some kind of an enigma but he was in no mood for riddles.

"Your father has requested your presence a while ago, quite urgently. Actually he wanted you to come back to him the moment Madame la Comtesse and Monseigneur had left him. So I went looking for you, had some hot brew and a nice chat with Bessy and Nancy in the kitchens, passed by Gaius' quarters, talked to Merlin a bit – he's horribly bored by the way – and went back to tell His Majesty that I could not find you in the castle, doubtlessly due to your most considerate and effective preparations for tomorrow's festivities."

"Did you really, Cedric."

"Indeed, My Lord. His Majesty Your father most graciously thanked me by calling me an idiot and decided to retire to his rooms for a while. As to my certain knowledge Madame la Comtesse has joined him there. However I am very sorry that I have to admit that the duration of Madame's courteous visit in His Majesty's chambers is a mystery to me."

"I hardly believe that there is such a thing as a mystery for you in all of Camelot."

"Very aptly put, Your Highness. Naturally I had to ascertain that no one would trouble your father with contrary messages as to your whereabouts. That is why I searched for you everywhere to make ….."

"... sure that I could not be found, yes, I now see the sense in that. Don't worry, I will make myself invisible when going to the knights' quarters and to the stables. Thanks for the warning."

"All in a day's work, Your Highness. However, Your Grace might wish to visit the knights' quarters first, avoid the dark horse in the stables, so to say."

Arthur's uncomprehending face talked volumes and Cedric thought it wise to add some further information. "Monseigneur can hardly restrain his admiration for your horses. Especially your grey stallion is the object of his adoration. I dare say he would like to borrow the animal for tomorrow's trials and tribulations."

"I bet he would. Go tell him that Stormcloud has lost a shoe and that he has hurt his hoof as a result. I need the horse myself. By the way, a moment ago you spoke of festivities instead of tribulations."

"I am utterly devastated to tell Your Highness that I have already spoken to Monseigneur about Stormcloud having the rabies. In spite of my most awful mistake, may I say that we all hope that Monseigneur will remember this jousting _not_ as a festivity?"

Arthur snorted amusedly. "Thanks for the encouragement, Cedric. How is it that you always know what to do or say when the time comes?"

"I have been King Uther Pendragon's personal servant since when I was somewhat younger than Merlin is now and your father was a boy of eighteen. I would have done a poor job had I not learned to anticipate basic necessities of Life at Court."

"Such as?" Arthur asked while he stepped out on the corridor. This conversation did wonders for his spirits.

"Such as telling Sir Gwaine all about the upcoming jousting. Far be it from me to precariously foretell a future hidden by the mists of time and fortune, but I dare say that he has already taken care of some of the pivotal arrangements."

"Cedric, you're a godsend" the Prince answered with heart-felt conviction. "Merlin could surely learn a trick or two from you."

"It is not for me to contradict Your Royal Highness in anything but after what happened to that soup I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Don't tell him that, Cedric, or he'll overrate his own glory even more and I would be the more the mourner for that."

By now they had reached the exit to the court yard that led to the knights' quarters and Cedric took his leave with an impeccable bow. "May I take it that Your Highness permits the young man in question to watch tomorrow's revelries?"

"All right, tell Gaius I think it to be safe for Merlin to leave his hide-away, as long as he does not show his face too openly. Will do our Court Physician a world of good to get rid of his whining for a few hours I shouldn't wonder."

Arthur was still smiling when he left the palace and Cedric looked after him. "Whining or no, there's nobody else who can keep your head above water better than this peculiar young man, My Prince" the servant whispered to himself. "If only you would let him have his way more often."

Uther's servant shrugged dismissively. He could only do so much. And right now he had his own appointments to keep. As fast as he could he went to meet the Baron of Ravenclaw.

The Baron had made it very clear that King Uther's state of health was of the utmost importance to the health of the state. As Cedric had a singular insight in both states by now, as well as in the considerable influence the Lady Matilda and this mockery of a Pendragon Prince exerted on them, the servant and the high ranking noble had met regularly during the last four weeks.

Tonight's report would not please the worried old aristocrat. After four weeks of listening to Matilda's and Hortensius' gossiping away on their heart's content whenever Arthur had turned his back, the King was, in Cedric's opinion, in some ways more out of his mind than he had been before. Unfortunately he was also out of bed for good – or for worse. It was, as the Baron would undoubtedly put it, a question of perspective.


	3. Just an accident

**3. Just an accident**

"I still don't know why I allowed you to come" Gaius said nervously but Merlin only shrugged. "Who has died and sentenced me to a life-time of incarceration? _Besides,_ Arthur said that I should."

"He said that you _could_ if I see fit. Not quite the same thing. And I am still not sure that I do see it fit. So don't you try my patience."

"I am merely supposed to stay out of sight of certain people."

"Really, sometimes I doubt the Prince knows what he's doing. How should you stay out of sight in one of the biggest crowds I've ever seen swarming over a mere training field? Unbelievable that the match was announced only last night."

"They've all come to see their Prince putting his illustrious Cousin into his shoes. Nobody will notice poor little me."

Gaius boxed the younger man's head irritably. "You and your ravings about Hortensius, you are a pain in the neck. Give it a rest, will you? Arthur wants his Cousin to be treated with all due respect and the Prince knows what he's doing."

"My point exactly" Merlin replied, accusingly rubbing the back of his head. "But since when have you regained this positive opinion? Only a moment ago you said exactly the opposite..."

"Oh, do shut up, Merlin. Sometimes you could make an angel cry for sheer despair about you."

Gaius would have liked to say so much more but by now they had reached the part of the knights' quarters where Arthur was getting ready for the match. Confidently Merlin grinned at the healer and dived into the small shelter. He opened his mouth to greet his friend and master when the happy 'Loo k-I-am-back-smile' fell from his face at the sight of Uther Pendragon's back. Quickly the warlock vanished behind the nearest stack of clothes and became as invisible as possible, while furtively peeping through a gap in the heap of cloaks and shirts that hung on the wooden rail.

"Well, then, Arthur" the King said. "Our men against the knights of Becco's escort. It's a pity we have only enough men present for three pairings. But your fight against your Cousin as a fourth round will make up for that, won't it? Remember this tournament some years ago, when you won all rounds single-handed? I expect no less from you and our men today."

For a farewell he squeezed his son's shoulder, smiling radiantly. "We can't have these plumed Gaulish cockerels go back home telling tales about our weaknesses, can we? I know you'll do me proud, my son."

Arthur swallowed painfully. "Father, what I wanted to say...about yesterday morning... I am sorry I behaved like that, I don't know what possessed me..."

"We will say no more of it. Nor of this gossip about you Matilda keeps giving me. I will not believe a word of it."

Merlin wished for a hole in the ground as Uther now pulled his son's head towards his until their foreheads met. "Arthur, I know these have been difficult times for you, but they are over, I assure you. It's still you and me against the rest of the world, is it not, my boy?"

"Yes, father. Always."

"Good. Good. I know I can rely on you. And remember, four victorious rounds for Camelot, not one less."

With an unreadable face Arthur watched his father leave. Was he glad? Worried? Ashamed? Or was that sadness in his features?

Merlin had thought that he knew his royal friend by now, through and through. But this mood was a novelty even to the Prince's probably closest friend. But then, if one thought of what Arthur was keeping from Uther; what he had been up to as a regent, especially during last winter...

"_Should your father ever find out what you have done on behalf of the Druids" _the warlock thought "I_ may yet regret that I hindered Morgana when she tried to murder him_."

Angrily Merlin shook his head. What _was_ he thinking? This was utter nonsense!

For a moment the warlock pondered just to jump out of his hiding-place – ta-daah - and help his friend get ready, as he had originally planned, thinking that the Prince's place was presumably the safest to keep out of sight of 'certain people'. But now, kept in place by some instinct inexplicable even to him self, Merlin stayed where he was and let Arthur finish his preparations on his own.

One thing was certain – the Prince was distracted by something. Otherwise it would have been impossible to sneak in on him like that. Merlin flinched when he heard Arthur actually muttering to himself, something he hated to do, to his servant's certain knowledge.

"This isn't going very well" the Prince told himself. "Likely as not this will go awry." He whistled soundlessly under his breath. "Then fare thee well, dear Camelot. Would be just as well. I'd never put a sword to a child's throat again." With these words he resolutely grabbed his gloves and hurried out, unknowingly leaving a mortified warlock behind.

Only now Merlin knew that this had been what he had wanted to gain by staying hidden. For once a clear insight into what Arthur really felt. Yes, they were friends by now, real friends, for all the official distance of status and rank. But there was another distance between them, one only Merlin was aware of. His royal friend was secretive of nature. For all his friendliness and usual air of gaiety and gallant light-heartedness, Camelot's Prince rarely ever allowed anyone to look into his soul.

So Arthur was perfectly aware that the provisions he had had delivered to the starving Druid families during last winter's plight had put a noose around his neck. A noose that had been all the more pulled tight by the fact that during the last nine months not one case of sorcery or exerting magic had been tried or even registered. It was as if the whole realm had suddenly developed the ability to read her Prince's thoughts. Three, only three denunciations had been made of evil sorcery and in all three cases a thorough investigation, carried out by Arthur's knights by his direct command, had shown jealousy or greed or a hidden grudge as the motive behind the false accusations.

If Arthur had officially lifted the ban on magic, the result could not have been different.

Uther wouldn't like that. He wouldn't like that at all.

The next second Merlin tried to mentally shrug off these uncomfortable thoughts. After all, the Crown Council had been informed of Arthur's measures. They had unanimously condoned the Prince's ideas of a peace policy towards the Druids. And so far Uther had yet to see the first registry entry of the deliveries that had been made by order of the Crown Prince of Camelot. And yet...

After last night's talks, when Ravenclaw, some of his fellow Council Members and old Geoffrey – of all people! – had met in Gaius' quarters, Merlin wasn't altogether sure that the Council was above a sudden case of collective amnesia, if worse should come to worse. Who would have thought that old, distinguished Ravenclaw could be out on a limb and find himself abandoned by his colleagues.

"_It was the Prince's decision to make no decision at all_" one of the others had summarized their thoughts "_Arthur didn't want to take the throne while he was standing on high moral ground, with his old man being out of business for everyone to see. Now that old Uther is up and about again, it's too late. Too many will jump at the opportunity to yell 'treason' when the time comes to choose between father and son. They will all hope to pick up a few crumbs of the spoils that are to be haggled over if Camelot is torn apart."_

Ravenclaw's objections had been made of solid reason but lacked persuasive power. "W_e all agreed that Uther's ongoing purge of everything that smells of magic has brought more sorrow and tribulations to Camelot than it was worth. The last thing anyone of us can wish for is a new alliance of magicians against Camelot. Enough is enough. So we all agreed that this absurd persecution of the Druids should come to an end."_

The others had only sneered at that. "_Agreed. Agreed. That gags me with a spoon. What was there to agree?_" the former speaker had once more said what they all had felt._ "The King had obviously lost it and we thought we had the authority of the legal regent to back us up. What's left of that now? Nothing! And that's all this talk is leading to – nothing. Well, I for one have risked enough for a young whelp who simply cannot make up his mind._" The man had shoved back his chair with a violent push and swept past Ravenclaw and Geoffrey. Already halfway out, he had hissed over his shoulder "_the men for the expedition to the Southern border the boy can have, and for free, just as he asked. But that's it, Ravenclaw. After that he's on his own."_

And yet, for all the viciousness of this remark, it had been the last man's parting words that had given Merlin the creep. "_I say it wasn't a coincidence, this invitation to the King's sister" _the man had said_. "The Lady Matilda has always known on which side the bread is buttered. Uther is a shrewd old bastard, for all his fooling around in personal matters. His daughter has taken the piss out of him. He will not allow his boy to do the same. What better time to show his son and heir that there is a second Pendragon Prince in the race, eh?_"

Merlin had been so dumbfounded after that, he had hardly had time to jump into his bed and dive under his blanket before Gaius had cautiously opened the door to his room. "_Merlin? Are you awake?_"

Naturally the warlock had _not _been awake. Merlin would never lie to Gaius, but pretending to be asleep..., well, sometimes it couldn't be avoided.

"_He's out as a light_" a relieved Gaius had said to Geoffrey. "_When I allowed you to come here after your meeting with Arthur, I thought it would be for a last ale and some quiet company, not for a conspirational gathering..."_

The rest of Gaius' and Geoffrey's conversation had been unintelligible for Merlin and he had been grateful for it. For the remaining hours of the night he had tried to cope with what he had heard. In the end he had decided to keep out of this. After all Arthur was no fool. Only a dollop-head, at times. A clodpole. A prat. But no fool. Hopefully not.

And Merlin had been _that _proud of his Prince when he had stretched out his hand to the Druids in peace, trying to end this endless spiral of persecution of magic and the repercussions caused by magicians plotting Camelot's downfall in turn.

Now, knowing from his friend's own lips that the Prince himself apparently was at a loss of what to do to avoid disaster, a very thoughtful Merlin went back to Gaius, to watch the impromptu jousting match. "And what's bugging you?" the healer asked at the sight of the warlock. "Look at your face. Long as a fiddle."

"It's Uther. He..., oh, never mind. I must have under-slept a little, for all my turning in early last night." The bell announced the beginning of the match. Merlin's attention was only partly with the actual fighting, most of all he pondered what Uther's words meant. Was there still hope that he would regain his senses and see what tremendous success Arthur's regency had been so far? Or would his paranoia come back to overwhelm him; would he only see his second child betraying him as his first one had done?

Gaius' sudden angry outcry brought the warlock back to the scene at hand. He looked up just in time to see the Gaulish knight throw his Camelot counterpart with one well aimed hit of his lance. Well, so much for the second of the four rounds. Obviously the first one had also been a Gaulish victory. In a reflex-reaction the warlock looked at Uther. What he saw on the King's face sickened him. With his gaze focused on his son's back, Uther's eyes were as cold as ice, expressing an insensible rage that seemed almost palpable. Merlin was a bit surprised that Arthur, waiting at the field's side for his turn to fight, did not turn to defend himself. Surely he had to feel these eyes stabbing into his back?

Fortunately the next round went to Camelot. Actually Sir Leon won the hosts' an extra round. He threw his opponent, but Becco's liegeman demanded an immediate rematch. Swiftly, elegantly Leon's horse jumped into action a second time, build up speed, added its strength to the precise, effective use its master made of his lance and the other knight was thrown again.  
This time the Gaulish needed his servant instead of a rematch.

The now fifth round ended in a stand-off, as both knights were thrown, with neither them nor their mounts being in a shape to continue the match.

"The King isn't enjoying himself" Merlin said awkwardly.

Gaius snorted. "He should know better than to expect wonders from Arthur's men. Our knights have been on patrol while the Gaulish were in bed or on the training ground."

The bell that announced the last round, the fight between Camelot's Crown Prince and his Cousin, prevented them from talking further. Merlin saw the Comte d'Auvergne's jaws tense angrily at the sight of Arthur. The Prince, for no obvious reason, was grinning broadly and pointedly patting Stormcloud's neck. The stallion was prancing and showing off his muscles. His fur was virtually gleaming with health, his tail had obviously been combed, as had his mane, and his hooves had been polished. Merlin felt a pang of idiotic jealousy. He had often taken care of the magnificent animal but never with such results. Whoever had bridled up the stallion this time had done a terrific job.

As always Arthur sat in the saddle easily and relaxed, as if being on horse back was more natural to him than standing on his own two feet. Still grinning broadly he took up his lance and closed his helmet. Without further ado, both knights spurred their horses and rode towards each other.

Arthur hit his aim with perfect ease and dear Becco went flying. Uther's face relaxed a bit while he nodded at his passing son as the Crown Prince made his way back to his own stand. There he waited for a moment, Stormcloud still prancing, full of temperament and fire. Obviously some of his master's triumph was transferred to the experienced battle horse. They had both done very well and the horse knew it.

Gaius sighed when the heralds announced a rematch. "Can't the bloody wretch say that this is enough now?" and it wasn't clear if he spoke of the Comte or of the King, who was looking more than pleased. If Arthur would win the rematch it would be four victories for Camelot's lances against the two that went to the Auvergne, while the guests would still come out with their honour intact. To offer an immediate rematch after one had been thrown at top speed by a lance was nothing even a well seasoned knight would do lightly. And Becco was only two years Arthur's senior.

"Call it a day, Uther" Gaius muttered impatiently. "If your son has got more than two hours sleep yesterday it'd be a miracle."

However, the King did no such thing and dutifully Arthur took up a new lance. Both knights made ready again, then they spurred their horses.

Stormcloud sprang into action as magnificently as he had done before and everybody relaxed. Everybody but the Comtesse. It seemed to Merlin that Matilda was more than a bit worried when her son once more rode against his opponent. She wrung her hands desperately and narrowed her eyes. One might almost feel pity for the handkerchief or whatever piece of cloth she held in her left hand, squeezing it mercilessly.

"What the hell..." somebody yelled and Merlin saw Stormcloud stumble, loosing his balance, pushing his rider towards the barrier between the two knights. Arthur's lance lost it's aim and his left arm went up in an instinctive attempt to regain his seating, opening his left flank to his opponent's lance.

"Rise your lance, you idiot" Gaius screamed aghast while the Comte d'Auvergne approached his Cousin. Instead the lance hit Arthur's chest with a sickeningly soft sound. That hadn't sounded like a crash of metal against metal. However, Merlin had no time to think about that. His friend, instead of being thrown to the side, began to slip from his mount to hit the ground head first, while the grey stallion was stumbling again, threatening to bury his rider beneath his heavy body any moment.

Without thinking Merlin muttered the first spells that came to his mind.

Time slowed down. Miraculously Arthur's desperately brandishing hand found the saddlehorn and held fast while the horse regained his footing and finally came to a halt, heavily panting and covered in sweat and foam. Slowly Arthur slipped off his mount and fell to the ground where he lay still.

Merlin felt his heart racing while he ran to his friend's side at lightning speed. "_Gods, no_" he thought. "_No, no, no. No! To hell with the godforsaken, hare-brained bastard of a Cousin._"

The warlock, unaware of the group of people that reached the Prince in the same moment as he did, fell to his knees at his friend's side. Blood covered Arthur's chest and more continued to pulse out of a wide gash in the armour. The Prince's face was white as chalk, his eyes under the half-closed lids were turned upwards, his body was shaking violently and for a terrible moment the young wizard was sure that he had come too late. That he was watching his friend's last moments on earth, unable to do anything.

"We have to bring him inside as soon as possible." Gaius' strained voice behind him, then some hands that lifted Arthur's now limp body and carried it away from the turmoil of terrified, anxious or just perversely excited people, to the blessed near-silence and solitude of the Prince's chamber in the knights' quarters.

"Is there anything we can do, Gaius?" Leon, Gwaine and Elyan were panting heavily, looking helplessly from Arthur to the physician and back again. "Keep everybody out as long as I am examining him" the healer replied coarsely. "And I mean, _everybody_. _Yesterday_, if you please!"

As soon as he was alone in the shelter, except for his unconscious patient and the young warlock, Gaius tried to loosen Arthur's armour. Merlin helped him to rip the metal plates off his patient's body and gasped at the sight of the ghastly wound in the Prince's chest. "Gaius, how should you..."

"Guard the door."

"What?"

"Just do it, Merlin!"

The warlock backed off towards the entrance but he kept his eyes on the healer's back, only to flinch violently when he heard his old friend mutter something in the ancient language of the old religion. For a split second Arthur's chest and shoulder glowed in a warm, golden light and the unconscious Prince drew a deep breath before he sank back on the cot once more. "Quick, Merlin. Help me dress this wound."

The warlock jumped back to the cot in an instant. "How could you..."

"Press this on the remaining wound" Gaius cut him short, pressing a clean piece of cloth into Merlin's hand, drenched with something that smelled strongly. The warlock did as he was told. With disbelieving eyes he saw that the wound in Arthur's chest had half closed. The more dangerous part of it, the part which had been sickeningly close to the heart, was simply gone. On the small table near the cot lay a piece of metal, twisted and smeared with blood.

Blood was also still coming from the remaining wound, a nasty cut in the left shoulder that now ended near Arthur's arm pit. Merlin pressed the cloth down on it harder, to stop the bleeding. He gritted his teeth when Arthur moaned with pain. Gaius came back to pour one of his potions over the wound and the bleeding stopped immediately, albeit not without a very conspicuous shimmer that thankfully faded away quickly.

"Gaius, what are you doing?" Merlin asked again, nervously looking at the entrance, where Leon's and Gwaine's backs were the only thing between the two sorcerers and total disaster. "You never brought this potion before!"

"I had a feeling that we would need it" the healer muttered while he began stitching the cut.

"But you promised Uther never to use such things again."

Without turning his back or hesitating in his doings the physician snorted derisively. "When it pleased Uther to have me use my magic to save his precious daughter it was all well and good. Every other father who would have had me do the same for his child would have lost his life for it, without so much as a second thought. Well, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Now it pleased _me_ to use my magic to save his son and our most august King can go and rot for all I care. He should learn to live up to his own principles before he demands it of others. There, I'm finished."

Gaius straightened his back and looked appraisingly at his handiwork. All that remained of the well-nigh catastrophe was a neatly stitched up cut and a Prince who was already regaining his colour.

And it wasn't a second too early for the two sorcerers. Merlin had just taken the piece of metal from the table and opened his mouth to ask for it's significance when an extremely enraged Uther burst into the room, pushing Leon to his knees in the process. "Where's my son?" the King demanded to know.

"I take this as a question as to _how_ your son is, Sire" the physician answered coldly. "The Prince is fine, although the wound was a severe one and he has lost a lot of blood. I was just about to try and wake him up for a few minutes, to see if his head has suffered any hidden damage."

Uther shoved Merlin aside and looked down at his son's shoulder. For a fleeting moment his eyes widened and the warlock was sure that they were filled with fear and anguish. The King's hand moved towards his son's face, as if he wanted to caress it. But then it was over. Uther's features hardened and his hand fell back limply to his hip. "That's a mere scratch" he said. "Hardly worth mentioning."

"I take this as a compliment, Your Grace."

Merlin was still too confused by what he had seen in the King's face to fully register the disrespectful tone of voice the physician was using. So he just watched Gaius opening Arthur's mouth and pouring a potion down his patient's throat. Already half-conscious, the Prince resisted briefly, but the old man was too experienced a healer to allow him to spit the stuff out.

A moment later Arthur opened his eyes, confused and somewhat disoriented, but clear and focused. The healer sighed with relief. "Sire, can you see me?"

"Of course I can, Gaius. Why shouldn't I?"

"Can you see my fingers? How many are there?" the healer asked and held up three fingers before Arthur's eyes.

"Gaius, what...?"

"Leave him be" the King interrupted rudely. "He doesn't need such foolishnesses. He's perfectly fine, as you said."

"I said no such thing, Your Majesty..."

"Father, what happened? Where am I?" an impatient Prince cut the healer short.

"What happened? What _happened_? You spoiled the jousting, that's what happened. Like a godforsaken idiot you almost fell from this mad stallion you insisted on taking although every fool could see that the beast isn't up to it."

Uther's eyes bulged with rage while his voice became louder and louder until it echoed from the walls in the aghast silence this outburst had shocked the disbelieving onlookers into. "You have disgraced yourself, all of Camelot and me in front of my family. You have behaved like an imbecile who's sitting on a horse for the first time ever. You're unworthy of the title of a Prince of Camelot. Being my heir would be be more becoming to Hortensius than to you."

"Father, I..."

"Don't you dare give me some stupid excuses. I would advice you to stay out of my hair, the sight of you sickens me."

Uther turned on his heels and rushed out, where his angry voice could still be heard. "And have this bloody horse killed as soon as possible."

Merlin felt someone touch his wrist and looked down. "Would you take care of Stormcloud for me?" Arthur's strained, low voice was more than the warlock could stand. Quickly he nodded and together with Gwaine he went out without looking at the others. Together they led the exhausted, still terrified stallion away from the scene, carefully avoiding to meet each other's gaze. Only when they approached Arthur's stables, Merlin halted in mid-stride. "Maybe we should not bring him back to his own stand. Who knows what..."

"Yes" Gwaine said, uncharacteristically soft and low. "But where else could we put him?"

"I'll bring my own Blacky out and we can put them both in the guards' stables, alongside the working horses for a few days. Blacky will calm Stormcloud, Arthur gave him to me, all his horses are used to being close to him. Uther never goes near the commoners' stables, he's too high and mighty for that."

"But not too high and mighty for behaving like a madman!"

Merlin shrugged silently while they went to his horse's stand. As always Blacky greeted him with a friendly snort and a gentle push of the head. Once outside, the two animals greeted each other and Stormcloud forgot about his tribulations, just as Merlin had thought he would.

Shaking his head, Gwaine took the halter resolutely out of the warlock's hand. "Go back to Gaius, Merlin. You may be used to have this idiot of a kingly father around but right now I need the man as much as a pain in the ass. The horses' company will suit me much better."

Already on his way to the other side of the citadel, a horse on each side, Gwaine was still muttering to himself. "What Arthur sees in this blithering idiot of a father is beyond me anyway."

Merlin shook his head and sighed. He had no idea where this should end. Tired, angry and thoroughly disgusted by what he had seen and heard, he trotted off towards the knights' quarters.

"Hey. You. Yes, you boy. Merlin or whatever your name is. Wait!"

Surprised the warlock saw the Baron of Ravenclaw approaching him hastily. "Are you going back to your master?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"How is the Prince?"

"He's fine now. It was a ghastly wound though."

"I bet it was. It looked horrible enough when the Prince was hit. Astonishing though, that a training lance should cause so much damage. And so much blood. By the way, did you see the lance Comte Hortensius used?"

"No, Sir. But wait..." Only now the warlock remembered the piece of metal he had found and simply stuffed into his pocket when the King had stormed in. Now he pulled the thing out again and wrinkled his nose when he noticed that he had bloodied his jacket with it. Yuk. This was _so_ disgusting. Not that his clothes weren't used to being smeared with the blood of a certain royal prat.

"I think Gaius removed that from the Prince's wound."

Ravenclaw took the piece and inspected it thoughtfully. "Did he indeed."

Once more he turned the piece in his hand, stepped to the water-well nearby and washed the blood and dirt away before he scrutinized it again. Then he gave it back to Merlin. "You've helped the Prince to get ready for jousting before, have you not?"

"Yes, My Lord Baron. Many times."

"Then have a good long look at this thing. Does this look like a piece from a blunt training lance to you?"

After a second Merlin shook his head. By no means this thing could be a part of a blunt lance point. Hortensius had used a sharp lance for the rematch. The warlock felt his knees wobble a bit. Wilful murder. The damned bastard had made an attempt at Arthur's life!

"Merlin, wait." Ravenclaw took the young warlock by the shoulders. "I want you to take good care of this piece. You must not lose it and no one must see it or know of it, all right? It is very important. Do you understand?"

Merlin was used to the higher ranking nobles, if they noticed his existence at all, treating him as if he had no brains in his head but straw and dirt from a peasant's fields. So he only nodded, his eyes meekly cast down to the ground.

"Look at me, my boy."

When Merlin didn't react, Ravenclaw took his chin and lifted his head impatiently. "Look at me, Merlin. I know you're fond of your master, very fond. You even drank the poison that was meant for him, didn't you. Otherwise I wouldn't ask what I am going to ask of you now. From this moment on, nobody, absolutely nobody but you is to fetch the Prince's food or drink. Everything is to be tasted by you first, before Arthur even touches it, especially if it should be send to him by his Aunt or his precious Cousin. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You will wash his clothes yourself. Or wait. My own washing is done by my own laundry maids whom I absolutely trust. You can bring the Prince's stuff to them, all right? I will inform them today of our little arrangement, yes? And most of all..." again the Baron squeezed the servant's shoulders for emphasis. "…..you will not let Arthur out of your sight, ever, as long as his kinfolk is here. Find some excuses, make something up. If necessary, have Gaius to back you up with something, I will talk to the old man, tell him what this is about."

"Yes, Sir."

"I would very much wish to have one of Arthur's knights shoulder at least a part of the burden I'm putting on you, but none of them can be as close to the Prince as constantly as you can, being his servant. Not without arousing suspicion. You understand that, don't you?"

"Perfectly." By now Merlin's patience, for all his experience with the aristocratic pride of all creation and their view on the rest of the world, was wearing out a bit. Really, what did this old crock take him for? Ealdor's run away local idiot or what? All right, the man was obviously on Arthur's side but even so...

"Well, as you have proven to be clever enough in the past, you most probably don't need my rambling on anyway. Forgive an old man for being over-cautious in this."

Incredulously Merlin stared into the old noble's face. "That was what you were thinking right now, was it not?" Ravenclaw chuckled. "I know that the Prince is the only one who can berate or belittle you without suffering a good lashing from your tongue."

"My Lord, I..."

"Let it go, Merlin. I know I can rely on you, as much as on your friend Gaius."

By now they had reached the knights' quarters but from the open door of Arthur's chamber and the general emptiness of the place it was clear that the Prince wasn't there any more.

"It's either the physician's quarters or his own" Ravenclaw said. "You better make haste to find your master."

Merlin had intended nothing else. From what Gaius had risked earlier, it was abundantly clear that the healer would want to have his patient as close as possible. So it was his own quarters Merlin was now heading to, not Arthur's chambers. To the warlock's surprise, Ravenclaw stayed with him until they reached the entrance to Gaius' tower.

The old Baron halted when he spotted Uther stepping down the stairs from the main castle, an excitedly chatting Hortensius at his side.

Merlin made haste to get out of the way. The knob of Gaius' door handle already in his hand, something urged him to look back. What he saw made his skin crawl.

The old Baron's eyes were still glued to the backs of the two Pendragons on their way down to the other yard.

Never before, not even in Morgause's face, Merlin had seen so much hatred.


	4. Father and son

**A/N:** I am sorry I had to replace this chapter, I'm having trouble with my writing software or so it seems. I hope I have found all the wrong spaces in the words.

Please R & R.

**4. Father and son**

A very thoughtful warlock made it finally back into the infirmary. However, in an heroic effort, Merlin took on a cheerful face. First, he was not supposed to know about the 'finer political implications' of the whole fishy business, second, he knew his princely master. Arthur wouldn't want to be berated by his friend right now and he would not take it well should it happen anyway.

Besides, with the vicious, reckless mood he was in, Gaius would make a much better watchdog for a wounded Arthur, doubtlessly already planning the earful he would give his Prince. Especially after what had been said last night.

"Here I am, worrying my poor head off about you, only to find you sitting here idly, as bright eyed and bushy tailed as one might wish" Merlin said as a greeting.

"It's not my fault that you cannot tell a mere flesh wound from a lethal one" Arthur shot back, flexing his shoulder to show how very fine he was. "Not even after all the thorough lessons you've got from our Court Physician."

The Prince grinned from one ear to the other to hide the short wince of pain he had not been able to suppress. He was good at such things. He would have fooled anyone, except Merlin. Or Gaius.

"Stop your tomfooleries, Merlin" the healer said irritably "the wound still needs to be bandaged."

The warlock made a face while he was already collecting the linnen and bandages with one hand. For once Arthur looked sympathetic. It was perfectly plain that Merlin had been berated because Gaius had wanted to pass a message to his Prince.

"It's not all peace and quiet for you in here, huh?" Arthur whispered, which earned him another, very punitive look from the physician.

"No, not really" Merlin whispered back, only to press his mouth shut pointedly. For at least a whole second, none of them said anything.

Then Merlin thought it to be high time to break the uncomfortably long silence. "So you think I could re-emerge officially?" he asked hopefully while he bandaged Arthur's shoulder. "It has been a month. Surely the injuries from my whipping should be healed by now?"

The Prince exchanged a glance with Gaius. "Well" he said haltingly. "That maybe so, but I doubt you have the necessary gifts as an actor to feign the humility and remorse a whipping is supposed to install in a man."

"I am going to be the model of servitude and modesty" Merlin answered quickly. He would have promised almost anything to be freed from his quarters, and Gaius' constant watch. People had no idea what cleaning a leach tank meant. And on a weekly basis. Most of all it robbed him of any opportunity to have an eye on his princely master. "You give me a cue and I will either vanish into thin air or bow and scrap to your family to the best of my abilities. I promise." In the very last moment he swallowed a "please, Arthur".

"It's exactly these abilities that give me the creep" the Prince said musingly. "Or rather, the lack of them."

Merlin tried his best imploring look. After all, his mother had once said that these big, dark blue eyes were a capital asset if used in the right way.

"Don't stare like that" Gaius said censoriously. "You look like a moonstruck calf."

Merlin surrendered. "Please, Arthur. I can't stand this anymore."

"Gaius, what have you done to him?" Arthur asked, while he tentatively flexed his arm muscles and his injured shoulder again. "Not only has he learned how to tend to an injury at last, you've also taught him some manners. Who knows what you could achieve if he were to stay in here for another four weeks? Until my precious kinfolk have left the premises for good?"

"I don't know what to say, Sire" the physician said, taking up the lighter mood Arthur was trying to invent. "It's surely a taxing task to teach him anything, as you well know, but if you say that it is my duty to Camelot to keep him under close guard somewhat longer..."

"Gaius, no..." Merlin whirled around to face his healer friend, then back to Arthur, his whole face a desperate plea. "Arthur, you can't do this. You need me. Only four weeks you tried to manage without me and look what is has brought you to. Your armour is a mess for all I can see, your shoulder is injured because your Cousin beat you in a jousting..."

"He has _not _beaten me in jousting" Arthur roared. "My horse slipped in the mud, that's all. Anyway, how your presence should have changed anything is beyond me. Your clumsiness would have hastened rather than hindered matters."

With the now familiar bitterness Merlin swallowed the reply that was already on his lips. "If that's what you think, Sire" he said. "I may as well go back to cleaning the leach tanks."

"Well, maybe my armour _could_ use some cleaning and polishing" the Prince backed down, much to Gaius' hidden amusement. "And I admit, after four weeks of keeping Gwaine and the other knights of not so very noble birth and upbringing out of mischief with my dear relatives, dealing with you seems not so very bad."

Merlin forgot all about his anger in the blink of an eye. "Which means...?"

"Which means" Arthur said "that I want my servant back on his duties, effective immediately.'" He sat down once again on the examination table. "And I mean it, Merlin. I need you to be my manservant as long as my Aunt and Cousin are around, most of all to my father. Not the gallant saviour of Camelot, not _Sir_ Gwaine's friend and companion or _Sir_ Lancelot's buddy. The serving boy from a peasant village named Ealdor, is that clear?"

"Absolutely clear" Merlin said. To prove his good will he collected the scattered pieces of armour and valiantly carried them to another spare table in a corner. "Might as well start the polishing, Sire" he called over his shoulder.

"You might wish to do this in your own room" Gaius said.

"But I..."

"Leave us!"

"_Here it comes_" Merlin thought. Quickly he grabbed the whole lot again and made haste to get out, ignoring Arthur's bewildered look as best he could.

From long experience, Merlin had no trouble to bang his room's door shut in a way that guaranteed it stayed ajar afterwards. Then he sat down on his bed, the armour still in his lap, and waited for the inevitable.

It didn't take long until Arthur's angry yelling came through the door as if the wooden thing wasn't there.

"I will not have you talking to me like that, Gaius. And that's final" the Prince roared.

"That's more than just a nasty cut your Cousin gave you" Gaius roared back, just as angry as his young master.

"I've suffered much worse, as you should know."

"Not in a fun jousting. And not from a friend. Or relative."

"My horse slipped. My Cousin could hardly know that Stormcloud would forsake me in a critical moment." Arthur seemed to calm down a bit now and Merlin knew that he wanted to see the matter closed. However, for once Gaius did not play along.

"I was _there_, Sire. From where I stood it seemed that your Cousin had ample time to avoid this. Your horse stumbled over his second or third step. _Monseigneur_ had almost half a minute for an evasive manoeuvre."

"That's not what a jousting is about, to spare your opponent or to give up an honest advantage. Hortensius had a fair chance to strike and he used it."

"You may well say that he struck. Three centimetres further to the left and he would have run right through your heart, Sire! Question is, was it a lucky strike or an unlucky one, but I think that depends on one's perspective."

Arthur kept silent for a moment. "This conversation ends here" he finally said. "Once and for all, if you know what's good for you." From the sounds Merlin gathered that Arthur had risen resolutely and turned towards the exit. "I mean it, Gaius!"

"If you had any idea what's good for _you_, you'd send your damned kinfolk packing while you still have a chance! Hortensius used a sharp lance on purpose."

Obviously the healer's' angry exclamation made Arthur halt in mid-stride. "Gaius, if anyone, _anyone_ but you, would have said what you've said, it would have cost him a memorable spell in the dungeons, at the very least. For once, in consideration of our long acquaintance, I am willing to let this go unnoticed. Don't try my patience again. They are family!"

Gaius kept silent for a moment. "Your wish is my command, Sire" he then said hoarsely. "Your Royal Highness will forgive an old man who's seen you on the brink of death too often."

"Maybe that's why you know me too well" Arthur replied, his harshness melting away like snow in the sun, together with his resolve to leave. With a heavy sigh he slumped back on a creaking chair. "I know Hortensius is not to everybody's liking. But he's no killer'" he said conciliatory. "His knights and companions are a nuisance, to say the least and my Aunt Matilda is – she is...as she has always been, but right now this supercilious, snobby, hare-brained bunch with their never-ending talk about 'standards' and the natural pre-eminence of aristocracy is exactly what my father needs."

"There was a time" Gaius said haltingly, clearly searching for a way to say what had to be said without causing more harm. Naturally the others had left that fine task to him. "There was a time when I and many others would have betted their lives and souls on your father loving you above everything in this world. That you would be the one he'd rely on in times of need. I'm sorry to say that we would have lost this bet."

Other than the physician had expected, Arthur only huffed. "This is absurd, Gaius. My father has loved Morgana so very much. Her betrayal has hurt and humiliated him deeply. Isn't it understandable that he wants to be with his family right now? Especially as this family..." from the sound of his last words Arthur had found his original grin again "keep on talking not only about their own superiority and moral high ground but also about _his. _Look what wonders it has done for his recovery, in only four weeks."

"Wonders. You call that _wonders_? The man is even less his old self than he was nine months ago. The only wonder in this is the speed with which your dear relatives have been able to undermine you. If I didn't know better I'd say your father is under an enchantment again."

"Look, Gaius, if this is about Merlin taking my side in a quarrel that doesn't exist..."

"This has nothing to do with Merlin. When you were dismounted by your Cousin's lance, we all thought that it had been the death of you. The lance hit you on your left side, your chest was covered with blood in an instant and you barely avoided hitting the ground head first. It has been an absolute miracle that you got away as cheaply as you did."

Gaius' fist crashed down on wood and Merlin almost fell from his cot in surprise. "And your father had nothing better to do than to shame you as soon as you opened your eyes" the healer shouted. "More than thirty years of experience with jousting and he should not have seen that you had been hit by a _battle_ lance?"

The Prince rose abruptly and turned away, but he kept silent.

"Arthur, you must face it" Gaius tried a gentler tack. "His bruises healed but not his soul. Nine months and no sign of a mental recovery. He's spiralling down, My Lord, not uphill. He's an easy prey for every shady fortune hunter who comes his way. As long as he wears the Crown we all will be at the beck and call of each plotter and sycophant who takes your father's fancy."

"Is this you speaking, or Geoffrey and the Crown Council?" Arthur's voice was cold now, withdrawn.

"Until this morning, I would have said, the latter. After what happened on the jousting field, my answer is: you are speaking to all of us right now."

"And by the plotters and sycophants you mean my Aunt and Cousin, am I correct?"

"Arthur, he tried to _kill_ you. We all saw it, your father included and he did not give a damn. We all could be at Matilda's and Hortensius' mercy whenever your father chooses to make it so."

"And what do you suggest I'd do, huh?"

Merlin winced at the sound of his friend's strangled voice.

"Should I take my sword and bring my own father to the dungeons, like my sister did? Should I chain him down, humiliate him, publicly. End his life's work in a torment of disgrace and slander? Should I? You tell me, Gaius, his old friend, should I do that?"

"The Council would be behind you if you acted _now_. But time is running out fast. A Council warrant to expel your Aunt and Cousin from Camelot for good is written and signed in no time. Afterwards there will be ample time to explain things to your father..."

"It wouldn't be like that. He'd never accept it, you know that. He'd fight it, shout, make a complete fool of himself in front of everyone. His reputation would never recover from the scandal. _He'd_ never recover."

"Arthur, Hortensius wanted to _murder_ you in cold blood and all your father did was humiliating _you_ in front of everyone, and he didn't think twice."

"I can't Gaius. I just can't do it. Come what may, I can't do this to him."

"The Council is going to abandon you. They would have ousted Uther with your support, now they'll go against you on his say so. Anyway, they will not risk a civil war. They have too much to lose." Gaius shot his last arrow directly into the Prince's heart with deadly precision.

By now the young warlock had made it back to the door, furtively looking at the scene in the infirmary. Merlin's throat was burning when he watched Arthur shake his head and leave the physician's quarters without another word.

The wizard opened the door and rushed to his old friend. "Gaius!"

"Go after him" the healer said. "Don't leave him alone. Go! And please, try to take care of both of you."

Silently the warlock hurried to catch up with his Prince before he could crawl into some empty spot and curl up there, like he had been doing when Cedric had found him yesterday.

However, Arthur had no intention of doing so. Instead he headed straight for the inner castle with his jaws set and an expression of fierce determination on his face that made Merlin fear the worst while he skidded over the polished stone floor to catch up with his Prince. "Where are we going?" he asked as soon as he had got enough air in his lungs to do so.

"_We_ are going nowhere. _I_ am going to speak to my father. Get this impossible situation over with, one way or the other."

With an angry yelp Arthur came to a sudden halt when Merlin jumped in his way. "Bad idea, Sire" the wizard panted. "Very, very bad idea!"

"What do you know? Get out of my way!"

"Oh, I'm very knowledgeable at times. Example: I know for a certain fact that you are going to regret this."

With an impatient huff Arthur grabbed his 'servant's' arm and pushed him into the next room which was, fortunately, abandoned for the moment. With another rough gesture the Prince banged the door shut and turned round just in time to see Merlin stumble and trip over his own feet. "Merlin, must you always do that?"

The wizard decided that this time he would _not_ fall to the ground like a wounded rabbit and, astonishingly, it worked. "You tell _me_. Why did you push me like that?"

"Because I had no intention of having a shouting match with my own servant in the corridor of my own home castle about some very – _very_ – private affairs which also are entirely my own. That's why."

Arthur's otherwise impeccably regal and very domineering stance was somewhat hampered by him rubbing his injured shoulder in obvious pain.

"See?" Merlin had long since learnt to make the best of every opportunity that came his way. "See? My point exactly. You are in no shape for having a shouting match with your _father_. A blind puppy could see that."

Exhausted, Arthur let his head fall forward. "All right, Merlin. So much for you being the obedient and gently submissive servant you promised me to be for a while. Tell me then, mastermind, how do you think this should go on – should I wait until my father finds out about my newly blossomed friendship with the Druids on his own or until my dear Aunt and Cousin tell him? Do you think that that would improve matters?"

"But you are not well, you almost..." in the very last second Merlin swallowed the word 'died'. Absurd idea, to say this to a Prince who was standing on his two feet, full of angry energy and very much alive, completely oblivious of the fact that he had once more been saved by magic.

"I will never be well enough for this special conversation, Merlin, but it has to be. And the sooner the better. Today at least some of the Council Members may still back me up. As for tomorrow..." he shrugged "besides, it's my duty!"

Since the events around Knight Valiant and the snake shield Merlin knew that, once "duty" had become involved, chances to talk reason into Arthur Pendragon were virtually nil. With an exasperated sigh he raised both hands. "All right. Go, if you must. But I will come with you!"

"With all due respect, oh mighty protector of my miserable self, and in humble gratitude for your most gracious permission to speak to His Majesty – hasn't anyone ever explained the meaning of the word 'private' to you?"

"I am a very private person." Merlin tried his best goofy smile, but to no avail.

"No you are not. And I will not have you lurking around when I speak to my father. How should I explain your presence to him? I tell you what you are going to do, _Mer_lin– you will go to Guinivere and tell her that I am all right, and that she should not worry, that's what you are going to do, right now."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Merlin yelped when his arm was grabbed and twisted behind his back. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"I will, as soon as you carry out my order."

The wizard felt a pang of guilt when he sensed from the grip on his arm that for once he could easily have freed himself from it, even without magic. "All right, all right" he yelped in mocked pain "don't kill me. If you want to be alone when your father rips your head off, fine, but don't blame it on me afterwards. You are the master."

"Great. Just make sure that you don't forget that."

Merlin watched Arthur leave and waited a few minutes before he sneaked out and began stalking the Prince. He made it to the throne room and after that to the King's office undetected, but when Arthur vanished into the room, Merlin was faced with a serious problem – the door was constantly guarded and the office, for obvious reasons, had no back entrance.

Magically blindfolding the clueless guard soldiers was the work of an instant. Sighing, the warlock went into the adjacent room where he pressed his ear to the solid wall. Under all normal circumstances this would have been futile but Merlin muttered a spell and the wall became transparent to him, mostly for sound but also for light. Merlin swore secretely. He _hated_ eavesdropping actually, he had always hated it ever since it had become clear to him how easily he could do it. Nowadays, however, it seemed the fitting thing to do all the time, and all because of these royal prats he was cursed with... Some destiny, he had.

Somewhat opaque but distinguishable, Arthur and his father could be seen as long as the spell worked, but it wavered when Merlin recoiled at the sight of two other people lurking near Uther. Matilda and Hortensius. It had to be them, of all people. Fleetingly Merlin hoped that their presence would scare Arthur away, but naturally – no such luck.

"Arthur" King Uther just said, obviously returning his son's greeting. "It's good to see you're already back on your feet."

"As you said, it was a mere scratch" his son replied, if somewhat strained. "Father, I wanted to ….."

"This is perfect prove for what I said, Becco" Uther ignored his son's words. "No harm was done by the mix up."

"I am so very glad to hear it. Rest assured, Uther, that I will give Horty's servant a good thrashing. To mix up a training and a battle lance – really, its too stupid even for this imbecile." Matilda sounded as if she was looking forward to dealing out the punishment.

"See, Becco?" This was Uther again. "The matter is closed. No need for apologies. At least not on that score."

"Father, I..." but again Uther ignored his son. The King just continued to speak in the same casual, indifferent way. "But on another score, there is much need for apologies. If apologies would suffice to make amends. Surely that's why you came, Arthur, is it not? To tell me some things that must have slipped your mind before?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about but ..."

"So Your Royal Highness has no idea what this is about!" Merlin almost fell on his back when Uther suddenly roared at the top of his voice. The King took something from his desk and threw it at his son. "Then maybe you will have the graciousness as to explain these accounts to me? And these Council Meetings' minutes?"

"_That explains the throwing_" Merlin thought, shocked and scared. "_The Council papers_. _Uther has checked them_."

"That's indeed why I came, father but surely we should discuss this in private." Arthur felt more humiliated than ever before in his life. The very thought that his father should have this scene in front of somebody else, some people whom he barely knew, relatives or no - it was unbearable.

"Matilda and Becco were the ones who opened my eyes to your doings. They brought these accounts and minutes to me, they told me that you have been conspiring with Camelot's most lethal enemies behind my back..."

"**Conspired!**" This time it was the son who interrupted his father. After having effectively ruled the country for nine months, Arthur could not easily go back to the role of the obedient, always respectful son. "How can you say that without even knowing my reasons? Are you accusing me of treason, high treason in fact, on these people's say so?" An angry and curt wave of his hand accused and despised his relatives at the same time.

"Do you deny that you ordered provisions and other resources which would have been direly needed here, in Camelot, to some Druid tribes? That you met with them, repeatedly, to negotiate some kind of a treaty with the unnatural bastards? That you gave them permission to roam our villages, our markets, which are so precious to you, to sell their vile symbols of magic? That you..."

"I know what I have done and I do not deny anything" Arthur interrupted his father once more. "And while you are at it, I also had some denunciations of use of magic thoroughly investigated and I could find no harm in what these people had done but I found the people who had accused them dishonest, disloyal and worth only of contempt. I came to you today to inform you about all of this and if we could talk in private, I could do exactly that."

For a long moment, Uther only stared at his son, disbelieving and confused. Never before had Arthur answered back like that. Where the King had been sure to find meekness, a guilty conscience and some stammered attempts at explanations and excuses he met resistance instead, and a proud sense of being justified. Suddenly he felt threatened. Threatened by someone who challenged his own position as a ruler. But most of all threatened by the perspective of antagonizing someone he could not afford to antagonize. Not as a King. And surely not as a father, who had already lost one child.

"_Not now_" it screamed somewhere inside his head. "_You need time to think._ _Not now_." His lack of authority made him feel weak, weak and unsure of himself and that was nothing Uther Pendragon was used to feel. He had been too shocked by the records his sister and nephew had confronted him with. He needed time to plan his reaction.

"So that's why you came here, to discuss your actions with me?" the King said, much calmer now, although it was a strained and somewhat forced calm. "Why did you not do so earlier?"

"Because until now I had your health to consider. As you are obviously recovered, I have no longer a reason to keep the latest developments from you!"

Arthur's seriousness and self-assuredness were very convincing and Matilda's face showed some of her chagrin about that before she regained control of her features and forced a benevolent smile. "Well, dear brother, I am sure you and Arthur have much to discuss. Maybe we should not have meddled with your affairs. I leave you to it, then."

"Thank you, Aunt" Arthur said sternly, without so much as looking at her. He held his father's gaze with his own, utterly resolved to have this long-overdue discussion here and now, to have the burden off his soul at any costs.

"But mother, I..." Hortensius said until a forbidding look from his mother silenced him. Meekly he swept out of the room in her wake.

"Would you mind telling me what brought you to this …..change of policy?" Uther asked his son, barely noticing that Matilda and Becco had left them. "You must admit, it was most unconventional."

With a silent sigh of relief Arthur settled down in the nearest chair without thinking. He had become used to be seated when talking to people, Council Members or anyone, and he had no idea how much the custom had grown on him. Uther registered the breach of etiquette with an inner wince but kept his silence anyway.

"Father, you were very ill and so I had no chance to discuss this with you. But we all – that is me and the Council – were of one mind when Morgause and... the others had finally been defeated: This constant plots and conspiracies of magicians or people seeking revenge for something that happened during the Great Purge _must_ stop. Camelot is strong, prosperous and powerful, as you have made it..." Arthur blushed only inwardly at the ferocious flattering "...but too many hounds will catch the hare soon enough. We can't go on like this, its eating away at our strength and in the long run, the other King's and Princes, their armies and their predatory wishes are much more dangerous to us than a bunch of peaceful Druids could ever be. And maybe..."

Arthur swallowed hard. This was the most dangerous of all his ideas, he knew it had to be said, nevertheless. He had kept it from the Council, even from Ravenclaw, Geoffrey and from Gaius, who should have been the first to hear it. Despite all his better judgement the son had thought that this should be for his father to hear first, should he ever regain his senses. "And maybe it wouldn't be a mistake to befriend some sorcerers. We cannot fight the next magically supported invasion army on our own, and the next, and the next, not with our swords and arrows alone."

Not for the life of his Arthur would have admitted that he strongly suspected that Gaius wasn't the only potential magical ally Camelot might rely on in future. The old healer had not been alone when he fought and defeated Morgause and Morgana. A young man had been with him, the same young man who had been with Arthur when he had miraculously defeated the Great Dragon. The same young man who had appeared out of nowhere in the Fisher King's castle, just in the right moment to save his Prince, perhaps for the umpteenth time.

Arthur had not forgotten what he had thought when he had come back with the morteus flower. That the blue light that had guided him out of the cave that otherwise would have become his grave had been sent by a guardian angel. And now he had a pretty good idea of who this guardian angel might be.

"Father, you taught me that one has to meet an opponent's power with a force equally strong. If we were to change our policy towards magic we could..."

"Enough!" Uther said, holding back the explosion that had build up inside him during his son's explanations as best he could. He forced himself to stay calm with all his strength. A plan had begun to form in his mind and he had no wish to rob himself of the opportunity to work on that plan in leisure. "I see now that you had Camelot's best interest at heart when you made your decisions. I had expected nothing less from you. But now that I am back from sick-leave..." he smiled as genuinely as he could "...you surely realize that it cannot go on."

"But father, I made good progress, there wasn't a single untoward incident when the Druids visited our settlements and surely a few provisions to save some starving children during a hard winter cannot be amiss, I..."

"Arthur, I said it cannot go on and this is final. You will accept my decision and that's an end to it. As yet _I_ am the King of Camelot, not you."

The Prince hesitated, unspoken words of protest stumbling in his throat. With a will he forced them down. Later. Later. For the moment it was enough that his father had not burst into a tantrum.

"I am sorry if I insulted you by not coming to you earlier, father, but I thought you needed some peace and quiet." Belatedly, and again without thinking, Arthur rose to face his father eye to eye and suddenly the fierce pride and determination in him gave way to something entirely different. "I am so glad that you are well again" he said. "There were times during the last year when I was sure I'd lost you forever."

He did not know it, but his whole heart was in his voice and face in this moment, the anguish, the fear, the worry he had felt during his father's prolonged illness. It gave him an unusual expression of kindness, warm-heartedness, love – and vulnerabilty.

It was the latter that finalized Uther's decision to carry out the plan that had come to his mind some minutes ago, although he knew it would cost him dearly.

Swallowing painfully the King pulled his son into a tight hug. "I love you, Arthur. Whatever happens, please, you must never forget that. I love you more than I can say. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing you or I will do in future will ever change my love for you."

Merlin, behind the wall, felt his face flush with heat and he let the spell expire. He had heard what had not been meant for him and he felt deeply ashamed. Quietly he sneaked away from his listening post and left these two to their privat affairs.

Thereby he missed the look on Uther's face when the King embraced his son as if it were for the last time ever.


	5. Hidden intentions

**5. Hidden intentions**

Having finally found a suitable excuse to leave the group of nobles that had kept her and her son, chatting away as if there was nothing more important in the world than the latest fashion in shirtsleeves, Matilda hurried towards her appartements. Outwardly she looked cool and, as always, a bit dull and sheepish; inwardly she was cursing all hell down on Camelot, and especially her brother. Damn him, damn him to hell. If these records weren't able to bring about Arthur's downfall, what was?

"Mother, why did we leave?" Hortensius asked while he scurried after her. "We could have…"

"Stumbled over our own two feet" she snapped, hardly troubled by the physical exercise of climbing an endless flight of stairs while silently fuming with rage and disappointment. "Obviously the King wasn't willing to go as far as we might wish in punishing his son. Had we pressed him into anything, his suspicion would have come down on _us_, not on Arthur. I know my brother. There was nothing we could do."

All of a sudden she took on a brilliant smile and began to pant heavily. "Oh, my dear Geoffrey. How very nice to see you, old friend. Isn't it a menace, growing old as we do? A small flight of stairs and I am completely exhausted. Where are you going?"

"Madame" Geoffrey bowed curtly. "Monseigneur. I'm sorry, I lack the time for a chat about the old times…" and it was clear from his face and voice that he thought them to be best forgotten anyway. "His Majesty has demanded my presence quite urgently. If you'd excuse me…." He bowed again and left them standing where they were. With one fleeting look Matilda had deciphered the headlines of some of the documents Geoffrey had jammed under his arm in an untidy bundle. The ability to read lines if they were upside down came in handy for a politician. While the old secretary hurried down the stairway, she had an even better view of some of the parchments.

She frowned. What was her brother up to at this time of day? And why should it make Geoffrey look as if he had bitten into rotten fruit?

Suddenly it came to her. An angelic smile spread on her face and this time it was completely genuine. Now things would go her way after all; and apparently without any bloodshed. The wrong kind of bloodshed, to be exact. Who would have thought that dear Becco's inability to kill his Cousin would be a stroke of luck in the end?

Happily she turned round and hugged her son, heartily kissing him on his forehead, to his greatest embarrassment. "Horty, my little cuddly bear" she said. "I think we will have our great day after all."

"I hate it when you call me that" her overgrown puppy said most indignantly.

"Ooch, don't fret my love, it's just because I am so very happy. We'll make a King of you yet, you'll see."

"Mais Maman, je ne compris pas…"

"Don't speak French dear, they don't like that around here. And why _should_ you understand? Leave it all to me; your dear Maman will get things straight, like she did with your awful father."

Hortensius shuddered involuntarily. He didn't like to think about the late Comte d'Auvergne. Of what the man had done to his family. And not only to them. A whole country had sighed with relief when the old bastard had finally kicked the bucket. "Good riddance" everybody had said and nobody had had the heart to question the pitiable widow and her young son with the anxious eyes about the details of the brute's untimely and most unexpected demise.

"In her bed" people had said. "After he drank a pitcher full of red wine she had kept for him special." They had all nodded sagely. "Such a good wife" they said. "And the way she looked sometimes….. Poor woman. Poor, poor woman. And her wretched little one. Thank heaven the old asshole is gone!"

Only Uther had sent his most heartfelt condolences, in a letter which much bewailed the great loss of her most beloved husband. But then the King of Camelot had never known much about his brother-in-law. If he had, how could he have sent his own sister into the swine's claws?

When Matilda had read her brother's letter it had been the one and only time that Hortensius had seen his mother cry.

After that, she had had no reason to cry, ever again. Matilda had proved to be a great ruler; she had done wonders for the devastated realm.

"What are we going to do, mother?" Hortensius asked with ultimate trust that she would know the perfect answer.

She looked at him with loving and very forgiving eyes. "Nothing my dear. Absolutely nothing. We sit tight and wait. If we are patient, my brother will destroy himself _and_ his son in the end, without us so much as touching a hair on Arthur's head. You see, much less risk this way."

Hortensius saw nothing of the kind, but sometimes it was easier to say 'oui Maman' and be done with it. She would do as she pleased anyhow.

"Yes, mother, of course" he said. "May I go now? I wanted to have some sword practice before supper; I'm growing fat on all this stuffing myself."

"Run along, dear. I'll be in my chambers; I have some thinking to do."

"_Haven't you always?"_ the young Comte thought. The son admired his mother boundlessly. But he would be damned if he understood what went on in her clever head.

Once in her room, Matilda dismissed all the servants and locked the door from the inside. She closed the curtains and lit the candles before she undressed and went to one of the large mirrors.

She scrutinized her naked body for a while. It was unbelievable, even to her, that she had once been beautiful, very beautiful in fact. That a man's arms had embraced her in passion and love and tenderness, many, many times. Back then she had thought that life was an eternal spring and she the Queen of it.

Naturally that had been before her brother had found out.

Self-righteous, pompous, supercilious Uther, even back then. He had not liked the idea that his only sister was in love with one of his liegemen. Where other people had seen a young woman, her own brother had seen nothing but a failed chance for a fine alliance and a possibly lost asset to add to his prestige.

When he had been through with the two lovers, the one had been cast away like so much dirt after he had served a final purpose and the other had been married off to the Comte d'Auvergne. When the filthy boar had come to claim his bride and take her home, he had laughed and said that he did not mind to receive damaged merchandise, if only the price was right.

Uther had been the only one who'd thought that funny. Most happily married himself, he might have thought it impossible that his beautiful, charming, intelligent sister should not be able to make a success of any marriage, no matter to whom he had given her.

Sighing softly, Matilda examined the traces her marriage had left on her, the visible ones, at least. Sometimes she needed this reminder of what Uther Pendragon and Camelot owed her, to keep her spirits up.

If only Arthur was more like his father. Why had he to be the splitting image of his mother?

Poor misguided young Igraine. How she had pleaded with her husband on Matilda's behalf. Always the selfless protector of all people. Intelligent, strong, beautiful, charming Igraine; the realm's darling and greatest treasure – and she married Uther Pendragon because she loved him. Well, wonders never cease. Especially the bad ones.

If Igraine had lived and known what Matilda's revenge would eventually cost her only child, the Comtess would have never started this, most probably.

"To you, Igraine" Matilda muttered and raised her goblet filled with wine. "I am glad that you are dead. I wish I'd find a way to spare your son, but chances are I won't."

Well, as things were developing now, she would at least keep her hands clean of Arthur's blood, thanks to her brother's arrogance and foolishness.

Matilda felt utterly relieved that nobody would trouble her further today. Uther had already dispensed her from tonight's family dinner, as she had pretended to have a headache and he had been too put off by what she had told and shown him about his son's doings to give a damn.

Hortensius knew better than to disturb her 'thinking'.

She saw that only one last sip of the wine had remained in the goblet. She drank a toast to her image in the mirror. "To your health, my dear. And to your being an only child soon. Finally!"

Wirth curt, purposeful movements she dressed again. Then she went – very seriously and with much resolve – about the business of getting roaring drunk as fast as possible.

Meanwhile a most appalled Geoffrey did not know where to look or what to say while an outwardly calm and composed King musingly scrolled through the documents in front of him before he resolutely shoved them together and handed them back to the old secretary. "Well then, Geoffrey" Uther said. "It's exactly as I thought. I can proceed without the Council's permission."

"So you are really willing to proceed with that?" a dismayed Geoffrey said. "I still think this should be weighed most carefully…"

"I have weighed carefully, Geoffrey. I have weighed and found wanting. I detest hurting him but I will not – in fact cannot – allow this….this illness to spread any further, however much he has been driven by only the best of motives. But then you know what they say: The way to hell is paved with good intentions."

"This will be a point of no return, Your Majesty. It cannot be undone afterwards. Nor would he accept it. Not this time."

"Let me remind you that berating me does not befit you. Take care not to do it again."

Uther's voice was calm, friendly even, but Geoffrey knew a mortal threat when he was faced with one. The old secretary bowed and pulled back. "I'll let you have the necessary documents in the early morning, Sire."

"See to it that you do. I need them before we ride out. I will accept no excuses! And Geoffrey…."

"Your Majesty?"

"If anybody, no matter whom, should not roll backwards with surprise four days from now I'll know who's responsible for that!"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Humbly Geoffrey bowed again and left. Outside the old man took to his heels as best he could. He had a very urgent if unscheduled appointment. If anybody could prevent this madness from happening it was the Baron of Ravenclaw. And to hell with Uther's threats.

However, again things did not go as Geoffrey would have wished. The old man was in for another horrible disappointment.

Ravenclaw studied the secretary's notes of what the King had told him thoroughly before he looked through the sketches of the legal documents the old man was to prepare.

"Do as he says" the Baron finally decided.

"But My Lord, the Prince…."

"I _said_, carry out the King's orders to the letter. There's an end to it."

"So the Council has really abandoned him" Geoffrey said bitterly. "I wouldn't have thought it to be _that_ easy."

"Oh, take your crooked carcass out of here, you old idiot!"

The secretary hurried out, mumbling to himself.

Ravenclaw stared out of the window. "_Treacherous, ungrateful bastard_" he yelled in his mind "y_ou've sacrificed your wife for this son and now that_." But then he shook his head. "It has to be" he whispered. "In the long run, it will be a blessing."

At the same time, Merlin was in deep trouble. At least he thought he was when he saw a heavily loaded Arthur virtually bursting through Gwen's door while his warlock friend, who was supposed to have spent the last hours in the place, just approached the little house for the first time in two days. So much for treating himself to a few hours of solitude and quiet after the awfully embarrassing eavesdropping. "_No rest for the wicked_" he thought awkwardly.

The wizard drew a deep breath and finally entered Gwen's place with the utmost caution.

"Merlin, there you are!" Arthur was virtually radiant with joy and happiness. Actually Merlin blinked once or twice to make sure that he did not have an apparition. He had seen his royal friend angry, triumphant, sad, sick, laughing and – but he would never admit that – crying, but _hilarious_? Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot and _euphoria_?

Something was very, very wrong here. All right, so Uther had not thrown him in the dungeons right away, but was that a befitting reason for the sumptuous feast that was spread on the table? Obviously the Prince had plundered the palace kitchens for the stuff and carried it here himself. Himself!

"What happened?" Merlin asked with a grimace. "Is this to be our last meal before execution or what?"

"My father" Arthur said, holding Gwen in a bear hug, "has invited me to a three days hunting trip, starting tomorrow morning after breakfast. Just the two of us. Well, you and Cedric will come along, naturally. But that is about it. Now, what do you say to that?"

Actually Merlin felt a bit nauseated by the two beaming faces in front of him. Dear Gods, how could they smile like that all the time? Didn't that hurt after a while?

"And this is good news because….?" the warlock asked.

Arthur looked at Guinivere in a 'should-we-tell-the-idiot-or-is-there-still-some-hope-that-he-might-figure-it-out-alone' style that was most annoying. At least to the idiot in question.

"Because, _Mer_lin, this is a sign that my father holds no grudge against me and it is a very good opportunity to convince him that my change of policy is reasonable. That we need the friendship and loyalty of some sorcerers on our side and that we should welcome those wizards to Camelot, not persecute them!" There, he had finally said it, and the sun still shone in the sky. All muscles tensed, Arthur waited for his friend's reaction.

Alas, belatedly as it was, this was the exact moment in which the warlock remembered that he was not supposed to know anything about the conversation between father and son. And that he was most certainly not supposed to howl and dance with joy about these words. If only Arthur wouldn't give him this peculiar, questioning, virtually penetrating look. As if he was trying to look into his soul.

"You said _that_ to the King and it earned you an invitation to a hunting trip!" Merlin stated flatly. "What makes you so sure you will not be the rabbit?"

Arthur's face fell and he let go of Gwen. "If that is all you have to say, you can as well leave us alone."

Merlin swallowed nervously. He hated it when Arthur looked hurt, it didn't befit him. "Sorry, awful joke" he muttered. "I'm glad your father at least wants to talk it over. I'm happy for you, I really am."

"Never mind" Pendragon slapped his 'servant's' back with a perfectly feigned good-humour; "as long as you at least try to look it while the others are here."

"What others?"

"Gwaine, Elyan, Lancelot, Leon and some of the others, I thought as I - we – are to go away tomorrow for a few days we might as well enjoy ourselves tonight."

Only now Merlin gathered that this was Arthur's idea of inviting a few friends for dinner. After all, the prat had not had any real friends until this new bunch had come into his life. The whole concept was still a bit revolutionary for him.

"And you want us all to gather in here? Arthur, this isn't exactly the citadel's great hall."

"Don't you dare insult my home" Guinivere said. "It's spacious enough for its size, you'll see." She was in seventh heaven anyway. She had watched the jousting match and thought that he was dead until he had burst through her door, laughing, chatting, whirling her around, telling her that all would be well soon. Today, nothing seemed impossible to Guinivere.

"For it's size maybe but not for the size of the men…" Merlin began, only to cough through the rest of it when Gwaine's hand slapped his back somewhat rougher than Arthur had done. "We've heard there's food and mead for everyone, and free of charge" the knight said and Guinivere confirmed that whole-heartedly.

It became a very nice, if somewhat cramped, feast and it helped only a little that the Lady of the House was seated in Arthur's lap. Thrice, Merlin and Gwaine went to the nearby tavern to collect more food and drink. Despite his original misgivings and suspicions, Merlin enjoyed it all thoroughly, although Lancelot's eyes showed what it meant to him to see Gwen in Arthur's arms.

Finally, well after midnight, they all went for their beds. Merlin and a somewhat befuddled Prince went into the castle for a short night's rest.

Arthur fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow, the happy smile still on his face.

"Optimistic clodpole" Merlin thought, all his former suspicions coming back to him in a rush. All the relief he had felt when he had left father and son earlier was gone. There was something wrong with this trip. It didn't make sense.

Wearily he went for a few precious hours in his own bed and ran into Gaius, who insisted on hearing the whole story. "I don't believe in this miracle" the old healer said. "You better keep your eyes open while you're out there, for both of you."

The one and only thing Merlin felt he couldn't do a second longer was keeping his eyes open. "Gnit, 'aius" he murmured and sank into oblivion.

Naturally he was late next morning. Hastily he packed his stuff and hurried to join the Prince for final preparations, when Gaius grabbed his shoulder for a last good-bye. "Take care, my boy."

"Don't I always?" and with that he was gone, leaving a worn out healer to the hard task of worrying himself almost to death.

An hour later, an also tired-out Ravenclaw watched the two Pendragons leave the castle together with the servants. Uther slapped his son's shoulder affectionately and even from his aloft place the Baron could see that Arthur smiled back with much enthusiasm.

"_How often have you done this in your life_?" Ravenclaw thought. "_Hugged and praised and flattered people while you already knew you'd betray them? Gorlois, Balinor, even your own wife and sister. Why didn't we try to stop you earlier? Why on earth did we never try to stop you?_"

Finally he straightened his back and inhaled deeply.

Now all he could do was waiting.


	6. The opening of the curtain

**6. The opening of the curtain**

In the late afternoon of the trip's second day, Merlin looked at Cedric pointedly and cocked his brow when another roar of laughter came from the two royals who had decided to share a tent from the very beginning of this hunting expedition.

Surprisingly, the young warlock had found it peculiar, even a bit disturbing, not to be close to Arthur, especially at night. He had had no idea how much he had gotten used to being near his friend's every move as soon as they had left the sanctuary of the castle walls, although it was usually Arthur who roused a sleeping guardian angel from sweet dreams in case of danger.

However, the wizard had no real complaints. This trip, to which he had been looking forward with so much apprehension, so far had been nothing but pure bliss and harmony for father and son; actually so much so that Merlin had begun to feel ashamed for his former suspicion against the King.

Indeed, Cedric's sour face was the only drop of bitter juice in an otherwise perfect chalice of wine, so to speak.

"Seems as if they are enjoying themselves thoroughly" Merlin now said, determined to cheer his 'colleague' up, no matter what.

"That's how it seems" Cedric replied soberly, only to shut his mouth again immediately afterwards; set jaws showing that he had no intention to say anything else.

Naturally it wasn't that easy to put Merlin of. "This way they won't catch much" he said jokingly. "Chef and the rest of the kitchen staff will be disappointed."

Now Cedric _did_ look up, directly into Merlin's enthusiastic eyes. "Uther will catch exactly what he wants to catch. Exactly when and exactly how he has planned it. As always."

With that the older servant turned and left the younger man.

Merlin frowned angrily. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Then he shrugged. The man obviously felt degraded by the circumstances. Cedric wasn't used to being outdoors anymore. It must have been years that the King had been on an extended hunting trip; if Uther took his servant on some outdoor exercise at all, it was with all the train and staff that befitted the King of Camelot; which meant that a very grand and aloft Cedric commanded a small army of humble and submissive servants who were at his every beck and call.

Grinning at the thought that this might one day be _his_ lot, when Arthur was King and the days of uncomplicated impromptu trips would be over and gone, the wizard collected the last pieces of bedding and provisions he had been looking for and made haste to reach the Pendragons' shelter. In the last moment he remembered that bursting in on his royal friend did not do for once; surely this was no fitting behaviour around Arthur's father. As he had no idea how to knock at a tent's entrance, he fussed around, rattled with the stuff in his arms and coughed unnecessarily before he entered.

"I bring the provisions you asked for" he said merrily while he unloaded all of it in the proper place.

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. "Who would have thought it possible" he said. Uther sniggered and Merlin flushed. Without another word he hurried out. It was one thing to be happy for his Prince when he heard him laugh with his father. It was a completely different thing if this laughter was at his 'servant's' expense.

Still chuckling, Arthur put down his cup and climbed to his feet. "Sorry father, but I think I should make one last attempt to fill our pots with some fresh meat; otherwise we will run out of food before tomorrow's lunching."

The faintest shadow of irritation ran over Uther's face, only to vanish into nothingness in the blink of an eye. It was obvious that his son felt the need to make amends to his servant and that his father was therefore not invited to the fourage mission.

"Run along" the King said jovially. "And don't you dare to come back empty handed. I have a ferocious appetite. Must be all this fresh air."

Arthur flashed a smile at him and left. His father's gaze followed him out, admiringly and doubtfully at the same time. "Cedric" he called commandingly. "Come here!"

"Your Majesty?" The servant bowed into the tent as silent and as unobtrusive as a ghost; in every aspect the perfect opposite of Merlin's entry.

"More wine!"

"At once, My Lord." Cedric took the bottle, which stood actually only inches away from the King's hand, and poured wine into the raised cup.

"He has got his mother's fine looks, hasn't he?" the King said.

"Sire?"

"My son. Lithe and elegant and strong. Like an animal from the forest; like Igraine. If only he were as opaque and enigmatic as these animals usually are. Instead he is an open book. It was an endearing quality in his mother but it's a severe disadvantage for a future King, is it not?"

"As I understand it, Your Majesty has found a way to handle that" Cedric replied. "That and everything else that found your displeasure. Is that not why we are here?"

Warily Uther's eyes wandered to meet his servant's gaze but Cedric avoided the confrontation.

"You always were a sharp guy" Uther said quietly. "But some sharp instruments one should beware of. In one's own best interest. Do you follow my drift?"

"Perfectly, Sire."

"Good. Good. I see we understand each other."

Meanwhile Arthur and _his_ servant were far from having similarly serious conversations.

"Stumble once more and all the rabbits will be gone 'till next year's Beltaine. It's your fault if we'll have to go hungry for the rest of the journey" Arthur said mockingly.

"Would do you good. After all it's better than growing fat" Merlin replied.

"Insolent idiot!"

"Royal prat!"

Both grinned. Apology said, apology accepted. They both knew what they had been talking about.

"So it's all bright and easy between you and your father" Merlin said softly. "It's a miracle but – I am happy for you."

Arthur shrugged. "It's almost as if he wanted to make amends for something. Although he insists on postponing the subject of the Druids and lifting the ban on magic until we are back in Camelot and the Council can be consulted on it."

"Why? You already had the Council's consent when you opened negotiations with them. Why put it to the test again?" Merlin didn't like the thought; not after what he had overheard the other night at Gaius' place.

"Maybe my father needs an excuse to turn away from his long-standing policy" Arthur replied lightly. "Or he thinks it'd be embarrassing if he acted on his son's advice alone. Anyway, I'm sure I have at least a fair chance now."

"He'd have my blessing if he were to lift that stupid ban on magic" Merlin said with much enthusiasm.

It earned him an amused look from his friend. "What do you care? Have you become a magician over night?"

Shaken out of his relaxed state of mind, the warlock looked sharply at his Prince, only to turn his eyes away hastily. What was it with Arthur's way of looking at him recently? It was unnerving. As if he were waiting for something that Merlin knew he should deliver if he'd only knew what it was.

The Prince saw him squirm and turn his head awkwardly; and Pendragon sighed inwardly. He'd never make this shy wildcat talk. Hiding his abilities had become a part of Merlin's nature. And who was to blame him? Arthur shuddered at the thought of how it must have been for his friend. Living that close to the mortal enemies of his kind, year in, year out. Fighting their wars, risking his life, only to end up polishing armour and scrubbing floors again.

In some dark, sleepless nights Arthur had even developed some understanding for his sister. Uther had hugged her, spoiled her, indulged her, constantly told her how much she meant to him – and all the time Morgana would have known that her loving, caring guardian – father actually - would kill her on the spot if he'd find out who she really was. It would have been enough to drive anyone mad.

As soon as his Aunt and Cousin would have left Camelot, hopefully never to return, he would make it up to Merlin, Arthur swore to himself. He'd find a way as soon as he could do it without endangering Merlin's life and future. One Morgana was enough. No more friends that were turned into enemies, no more revenge seeking sorcerers, never again! This idiotic purge _had_ to end, and soon!

"What about going back?" the Prince said. "We could give my father the satisfaction to see the great hunters coming home without a prey. He'd love that. He might even catch a hare himself. Would make his day."

"What about his belly screaming for food?"

"Cedric has brought more than we could ever eat, enough to feed an army. He always does."

"So Your Highness had the irresistible wish to have some good and sensible conversation with me."

"Don't get your hopes up. I only wanted to stretch my legs. You just happened to run after me. As always."

"I wouldn't dare to let you wander this forest alone. Without my protection. The very thought is monstrous."

"Forgive me. I forgot how much your mace work has improved, oh mighty warrior."

Merlin was still chuckling softly when Arthur suddenly grabbed his arm. "Quiet!"

"What...?" Merlin began, but that was about it. He gasped when a sword pressed in his back, out of nowhere. He tried to jerk away but an unbelievingly strong, hairy arm, packed with thick muscles and cords circled around his neck, covered his mouth and pulled him off his feet in the blink of an eye.

Merlin tried to scream but couldn't. His hands pulled, than hit and scratched uselessly to get rid of his attacker. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He heard Arthur yell something, then the clash of steel against steel.

"Stop the nonsense or this little rabbit will end up with a broken neck" Merlin's captor said. "Put that down before anyone gets hurt."

Merlin's struggling ceased, instead he used what little air and slack the attacker left him to look around, just in time to see that the Prince was surrounded by six other men, all well armed and in full armour. A black, brown and green armour, the kind Merlin had never seen before. It surely would melt into the brushwood and the dense rows of trees. Small wonder they hadn't seen these bastards against the trees.

"What do you want" Arthur hissed. "Money? Or what?"

"I want you to give my friend your weapons and hold still. If you do, neither you nor your friend will be hurt, you have my word. Make up your mind, son, your little brother or whatever he is hasn't much time left."

Indeed, Merlin hung almost limply in the big brute's arms, his eyes were closing. Arthur looked to the ground and cursed silently. To think that this skinny, helpless boy most probably could have send these rogues flying with one thought or word, if only he had dared. If only he had met these men alone, without his royal asshole of a master.

Pendragon threw his sword and knife away and raised his hands. "Let him breathe, for the Gods' sake!"

Merlin flinched weakly when Arthur's arms were tied behind his back and a gag was quickly shoved into his mouth. Another rope was loosely tied around his knees; he would be able to walk, but not to run.

Only afterwards the bandit let go of his hostage and the warlock fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air for what to him seemed like an eternity. He hardly felt it when his own hands and legs were tied. Only when someone tried to stuff a rag into his mouth he pulled away.

"Leave him be. He won't scream, not as long as we have them both. He'd never endanger his friend's life." The big, dirty hand roughly grabbed the warlock's chin and forced his head up, to look into a pair of glowing gold-brown eyes that seemed full of light, dancing in the sun. "Would you, Merlin?"

Uncomprehending, the warlock stared at him. The man knew who he was. So he must know who Arthur was, too! Why had he pretended otherwise before?

"Will, Gwyd, you stay with them. If they try anything, knock them out. It would make moving them much easier anyway. The others, come with me!"

Arthur's eyes widened when he saw the five men approach the clearing where their camp was from behind. "_Gods, no_" he thought. "_My father_!"

With a stifled cry he tried to get up, ignoring his bound hands and legs. The man called Will pushed him back to the ground and placed a foot on his captive's back to hold him down. "Hold still, princeling. What comes now is no longer any concern of yours."

Merlin saw that Arthur still fought frantically but he had no chance to free himself. The foot pressed down on his spine with more weight now and his chest was pinned to the ground. The bandit only needed to wait and his prisoner would wear himself out in useless struggling soon enough.

"Don't touch him, you filthy swine. You have no right!"

Casually the bandit turned his face towards the warlock, without so much as moving his foot an inch. "You better be quiet. Or I could remember this knocking out thing. Much more harmful, that way."

However, the man had underrated Arthur's strength and resolve, as many had done before him. The moment he knew his opponent to be distracted, the Prince buckled violently and, when the man stumbled, got enough room to roll unto his back. Quickly Pendragon jumped to his feet before the bandits found the time to react.

Arthur bent forward and rammed his head and torso into Will's chest with ferocious power. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet while the bandit fell to the ground. It was a lucky fall – for the Prince, not for his opponent. Will fell and hit a stone in the ground. With a nasty sound his skull broke and he died even before his legs stopped moving.

"Damn you, you young idiot" Gwyd roared and unsheathed his long hunting knife. "Didn't he tell you that we don't want _your_ hide?"

With a quick step he evaded Arthur's next attack and got behind him. Trussed up as he was, the Prince stood no chance. Gwyd grabbed his hair and jerked his head back, exposing his defenceless captive's throat to his knife.

The man might have intended to subdue his prisoner, to intimidate him or just to wrestle him down without so much as scratching his skin but Merlin didn't think, not even of freeing his own wrists and feet first. The warlock saw the shining blade, reflecting the last rays of sunshine that filtered through the leaves, as it came down on the helpless neck and he acted on instinct alone.

He roared at the top of his lungs and Gwyd never got an idea what had hit him. His head snapped back and every single bone and sinew in his neck was severed. When his body hit the ground he was already dead.

Merlin didn't see it and he didn't care. He only saw the falling body that brought the knife down with more power than the living hand would have done before it buried Arthur's body under his fallen attacker. The Prince yelped just once, a pathetically muffled sound under the gag, then he lay still.

The ropes gone, he didn't know where or how, the wizard scrambled to his friend; an impatient push of his magic sent Gwyd's dead body flying into the scrub like so much trash. Merlin sobbed when the blood on Arthur's upper chest became visible. He was so terrified that he even missed the significance of the fact that the blood was still pulsing from the big cut that went from the right shoulder blade all the way down almost to the left nipple. With flying fingers he pulled the gag off, then he had to pause to rub his eyes which somehow seemed to overflow, now, of all times.

"For the Gods' sake, stop crying like a baby, we have more important things to do!"

"A-a-a- arthur?"

"No, it's my ghost, coming back to haunt you for your stupidity, untie me, damn your lazy head!"

A second later the Prince jumped to his feet, grabbed his sword – a miracle that he should know where he had thrown it; Merlin tended to think that there was a magical bond between man and blade – and ran towards their camp at full speed, with a very confused warlock scurrying in his wake. For the moment there was no room in the wizard's head for anybody else, especially not for Uther.

Arthur screamed with rage when he reached the campsite. His sword found the first attacker's back before the man could turn. His body almost cut in halves, he fell down.

Merlin tried to keep track of events, most of all to keep an eye on Arthur who ran directly into the thick of things.

Uther was fighting the bandit's leader and one of the others at the same time. One man lay at the King's feet, presumably dead. So they had not been able to take him by surprise.

The last bandit was fighting Cedric, who once more displayed his astonishing skill with a blade. Even in this tense moment Merlin shook his head in remorse. He couldn't count the times in which an exasperated Arthur had yelled at his clumsy servant to take a leaf out of Cedric's book when it came to sword fights.

However, in this very instant Cedric slipped and fell forward. His opponent chose this exact moment to bring his blade up and the point found it's intended target. The servant screamed with pain and fell down, blood splattering from a wound that could be nothing less than lethal.

"Cedric!" Merlin shouted and ran towards the older man, screaming with rage. The bandit hardly managed to free his blade from the dead man's chest in time to fend the warlock off, but it was no use anyway. His throat constricted, then it was crushed, while Merlin rushed pass him without so much as looking at him or at the final swing of his sword.

While the wizard knelt at Cedric's side, Arthur's sword found it's victim, too.

Now it was the bandits' leader alone who still had his blade. He made another attempt at Uther's chest but the King fought him off.

"Put it down" Arthur shouted commandingly.

"Kill him" Uther yelled. He was a fine fighter, but he was many years the bandit's senior and he had no armour.

Arthur raised his blade in his signature swing and came for the man who was threatening his father.

Unknowingly the fighters had moved towards where Merlin still knelt on the ground, Cedric's hand uselessly in his.

"Oh no, you bloodthirsty bastard" the bandit growled, audible only for his enemy. "You will not live at your son's expense."

He took his sword with both hands and lunged forward, directly into Uther's rising blade. The King's fine sword ran through the man's body and was caught in the chest while the dying bandit used his momentum to bring down his own weapon. With a sound as if strong silk was ripped apart the blade cut through the vein in Uther's neck and tore it open.

"_No!_" Arthur screamed and briefly Merlin was sure that his friend was the one with the fatal wound. Frantically the Prince tried to press the severed vein together but it was no use.

Uther's eyes were wide and terrified. His hand searched for his son's arm, pleadingly, helplessly. He tried to speak but choked when blood ran into his throat.

"Merlin, please. Please, you must help him. I beg you, please save him, do something."

Disbelieving, the warlock stared at his friend. What was he talking about? Not even Gaius would have been able to close that vein in time. Except...

Merlin looked at Uther's horrified face. The King might be dying but he was wide awake, no doubt about it. Frantically the wizard shook his head and recoiled. Surely Arthur couldn't mean...

Only now it occurred to Merlin that Arthur had also been awake when he had last used his magic and that nevertheless the Prince hadn't reacted to it, as if he had known all the time.

All the time.

Arthur had known all the time.

"Merlin, please. Please, for my sake. You can't let him die."

The wizard once more met the Prince's pleading eyes and drew a deep breath. Then he did what he would always do in the end – he did as Arthur wished.

Something happened in Uther's face when his son's 'servant', the insignificant peasant boy from Ealdor, the idiot, the nuisance to whose loyalty and faithfulness he nevertheless had entrusted his son more than once, laid his hands on the King's wounded throat and let his magic flow freely, effortlessly.

The dark blue eyes flashed in an intense golden light before they closed in deep concentration. Miraculously the pain went and with it the mortal agony and fear.

Suddenly the King could breathe again and he knew that he would live. Thanks to magic. Thanks to his son and the utter selflessness and loyalty Arthur could inspire in his people. Thanks to this boy's willingness to risk anything, to give up everything, at Arthur Pendragon's say so.

Fleetingly a bout of vicious jealousy ran through Uther's soul. However, it passed quickly enough, making way for a mortifying impression of remorse. "_What a King you are going to be, my son_" he thought. "_The greatest of them all. Much, much greater than I have ever been. An awful shame that you will hate me so much before that day comes_."

The regret he felt showed in his face and it looked as if he was angry. Merlin saw it and he winced in sudden fear. His eyes flashed their golden light again and the King sank back, unconscious.

"What is it? What happened? What have you done?"

"Nothing. I... He needs to rest. He needs rest to heal..."

"Yes. Yes, sure. I'm sorry, I...I shouldn't have..."

And an instant later, Merlin had two unconscious Pendragons at his hands.

"Great" he said. "Just great. Three cheers for chivalry's pomp and circumstance. They wield their swords, they do stupid things like getting themselves hurt and almost killed and they dirty their clothes and they damage their things and they tore their socks and who's the one who's left with the dirty work? Me. Me and Cedric. Don't you think so too, Cedric? Cedric?"

"It's all right, Merlin" he heard Cedric say. "You are just a bit tired. You need to rest a bit. Only a few minutes. Then you will feel better."

"Yes. Yes, you're right. You know, for a dead man, you have pretty good ideas. But you see, I can't sleep now, I don't have time. I must run. I must run far away, before Uther wakes up. I have used magic to save him and he will sure kill me when he wakes up. He will be so angry with me."

"Just a few minutes. A few minutes can't do any harm. Only a few minutes to rest your eyes. Surely he can't begrudge you a few minutes?"

"No. Not a few minutes. But there was something else... something important... If only I could remember... I am so very tired... I've never been so tired before, it's my strength, you know, Cedric, it's running out of me, like water.."

With a frown the exhausted warlock looked at Arthur and at the blood that was still running from the cut in his chest, slowly now, but continuously, apparently unstoppable.

Merlin watched the red, gleaming trickle as if he was spellbound by it. Something was important about this sight, something was very important, if only he could remember. But he was so tired. So very tired.

Finally his eyes closed and he curled up at Arthur's side for warmth. It was so very cold, he was freezing. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around the warm body near him and his left hand touched the wound from which Arthur's life was running away.

Already half in his dreams, the warlock smiled contently. "Now I know" he murmured; and the cut closed, then vanished, as if it never had been there. "See, prat?" he thought he said it. "See? I remembered. I'm not an idiot after all."

With this happy thought, he sank into a comforting nothingness. The big gash on his own hip, where the sword of Cedric's murderer had hit him while he had been focussing entirely on his companion, had opened even wider with every healing spell that had drained the warlock's vital energy.

Yet Merlin didn't even know that it was there. He felt nothing, missed nothing and was completely contented while he fell deeper and deeper into blackness.


	7. A cruel awakening

**7. A cruel awakening**

Arthur stirred in his sleep; something was troubling him, but he did not know what. All of a sudden he darted up, shocked by the memory of the attack and the events in its aftermath.

"Lie still!" Uther's firm hand pressed his son back on his bedding. "The last thing we need right now is you getting hurt again."

"The last thing I _remember_ is _you_ getting hurt" Arthur protested. "I asked Merlin to…." He paled visibly and his voice trailed off. Had he….? Had Merlin….? Dear Gods!

"The boy is fine; he's healing all by himself, now that he's getting the necessary rest. It's a special ability of his kind. His inborn magic can heal either his own body or somebody else's. Let him sleep and he'll be right as rain."

Listening to his father's laconic lesson about a warlock's healing abilities was among the weirdest things Arthur had ever experienced. The expression on his face changed accordingly – blank, and more than a little bit confused.

"Oh, don't stare like that, it's something Gaius told me decades ago, while he was still using his own…. – never mind. That's long ago and best forgotten."

"So you are all right?" Arthur asked "Merlin really healed you?"

"I'm fine, yes." The King rose and busied himself with rummaging through their bags. Carefully he avoided looking at his son.

An awkward silence spread between them. They both hated it but neither wanted to be the one who broke it. Until Arthur got up and went to the other side of the shelter to check on his sorcerer friend.

The moment his son laid a hand on the warlock's shoulder Uther darted around and grabbed his wrist violently. "Don't touch him!"

Arthur resisted for a second; then he gave in to the hard pull and recoiled from his friend, never taking his now wary eyes from his father. "What's the matter, do you think he's poisonous? After what he did for you, you still think he's too dirty to be touched by a Pendragon?"

The King tried to bring his breathing back under control, he was panting as if he had suffered a terrible ordeal. He had had hours to stew over what had happened and the first moment's relief and gratitude had soon been ousted by a feeling of betrayal, jealousy and hurt. "He didn't do it for me; he healed me for your sake. And you knew what he is. You. My own son!"

Arthur winced under the accusation. "Not from the very beginning, no, but I started to suspect it when I had a few close calls too many. Merlin…" in spite of the tense mood he shook his head in amusement "he began…hinting at things in a way, he talked about destiny and that it was his task to protect me. At first I thought he was mad or just trying to redeem himself, in his own eyes more than in mine but…; father, stones don't fly on their own accord, fires don't explode into a villain's face time and again without a reason, spears don't come out of nowhere, right into a man's heart, a second before he could cut my heart out – it just didn't make sense anymore. This had nothing to do with my sword skills, or with luck. This was intentional. Someone was protecting me, I had no need to shield my back; someone else was doing that for me. Someone who was not able to wield a sword or a mace but who could make a tree fall or the ground opening up. Someone who was always with me, always at my side, no matter where or when or against whom I went. There was only one."

Uther blinked; and finally he was the first to look away. "Why should he do it? If he's as powerful as you say…"

"You have seen how powerful he is" Arthur interrupted him. "This wound was lethal, and you know it."

"Then why should he play the servant?" his father exploded. "Why be at your beck and call when he could put the world out of joint, just for the fun of it? He could make you his slave, anytime he wanted to, why let you be the master?"

Uther kept his worst suspicions to himself. Indeed, why should a powerful warlock play the humble servant? Why, if not for turning the future King's heart away from the present one. And apparently the innocent looking boy had already succeeded.

Arthur knew nothing of his father's fears. He was too busy trying to explain what – to him, after a long time of brooding – was abundantly clear and beyond all doubt. "Because that's how he is. He can stand almost anything, as long as he can be with the people he…, with the people who mean something to him. He doesn't crave power, he craves…. affection." Arthur shied away from the word 'love', it seemed unnecessary big for the occasion. Yet suddenly his anger got the better of him. "He won't pay the price for power; even if he could be almighty, it would mean to be alone and that's the one thing he can't endure. He's not Morgana. He's not like you!"

Uther winced as if he had been slapped in the face. He ached as if he had and he swallowed hard. "So that's what you think. That Morgana is like me. Craving for power more than for anything else."

Arthur shrugged and looked down, embarrassed now. "I'm sorry, father, I didn't mean to…"

"What about you then?" the King cut him short. "How far would you go? To take the Crown?" Only inwardly Uther added "_and for whom?_"

It was the one thought the King had been pondering ever since he had come to and carried the two unconscious young men into the tent. For a long time he had wanted to end the warlock's life while he was still sleeping, quickly and painlessly. It had been the thought of what was to happen to his son when this trip came to its end that had kept his hand away from the knife or the pillow.

He had been sure he was ready to accept that these two days would have been the last moments of trust and love between him and Arthur and yet the thought of how much additional grief the servant's death would mean to his son had been enough to let his courage falter.

"Obviously not far enough" Arthur now said hoarsely, disappointment and shame bringing a red heat to his face; not for a fault of his own, but for his father and his misplaced distrust. He thought of the many occasions in which people had put pressure on him to take the Crown, to oust the "mad" King, the "old, spent force" for good. All these arduous, torturing discussions about whether or not Uther would ever recover.

The King, unaware of his son's trail of thoughts, felt the oppressive silence come back to haunt his already tormented conscience and suddenly he decided to get it over with, to end this abominable charade of a family outing, here and now. Surely Bodmin was already on his way. It wasn't long now before he and the others would be here. No risk in having his final confrontation with his son in private.

"Arthur, please, there are some documents in my bag. Would you fetch them for me."

Incredulously the Prince stared at his father. _Documents_? Now? Arthur was used to his father changing the subject at will if a conversation became awkward or unpleasant to him but this one took the biscuit.

"Father, I don't think…."

"Please, Arthur. It's important."

Arthur raised his hands in angry surrender and did as he was told.

Uther didn't turn. He heard the rustling of the parchment when Arthur found the heap of documents and pulled them out. "Father, why on earth did you bring this stuff on a trip like….."

When Arthur broke off, the King knew that he had read the headlines and at least a part of the papers. Biting his lower lip he allowed his son a few minutes more of reading before he turned to look at him.

The young man was as white as chalk. Uther saw from the torment in his face that the blow had hit home exactly as intended, even if the full shock would need more time to really sink in.

"No, you have not gone far enough" the King conceded, picking up the essence of their former conversation. "Obviously it wasn't important to you. Like your mother, you favour other things more than Camelot or the Crown. Or _me_. And you see, this will not do."

"What…" Arthur said but he broke off again, not knowing what to say.

"The Earl of Bodmin will be here soon. He is coming for you. As my son and as my subject you owe me your obedience and I will have it, here and now." Uther cleared is throat nervously and hated himself for being weak enough to _be_ nervous at all. "The Earl will arrest you by my order. You will follow him to a place of my choosing to stay there at my pleasure; do you understand?"

It took a moment but finally real understanding began to dawn on Arthur's face. He shuddered lightly and his vision blurred before he was able to raise his head. Memories of the last two days stumbled through his mind; the banter, the laughter, the companionship. His relief, his joy – his unconditional trust. And it had all been a lie.

"_I love you, my son. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing you or I will do in the future will ever change that._"

And it had all been a lie.

Fleetingly Arthur thought of his sister once more. She at least had known what to make of their father's promises and assertions and she had hated Uther for it. Obviously she had always been smarter than her brother, the trusting idiot.

Arthur shuddered again and the King tensed, fearing some kind of an outburst, some violent action, but such things were far from Arthur's mind. This was way too important for some boyish games of trading insulting remarks and a few hits before he would be subdued.

Not for a minute he doubted his father's words about the henchmen being already on their way. Surely he would be vastly outnumbered. Uther Pendragon would not leave a thing like this to chance. That was not his kind of mistakes.

Besides, there was a defenceless young man, unconscious and oblivious of what was going on, directly under Uther's foot. And, judging from these papers, Merlin wasn't the only one.

The Prince looked up from the papers, into his father's eyes. "So that's what this trip was about. You feared to have witnesses for this." Something inside him was torn apart and yet his outward composure was perfectly calm. He might have been talking about the weather.

"There would have been no one left to intervene; I've made sure of that" Uther said. "Every single one of your so called friends has been arrested five minutes after we had left. Their lives depend on your behaviour, so I advice you to think twice before you do something rash, now or after Bodmin has arrived here."

"What friends are you speaking about? Are you so mad at me that you make a fool of yourself by arresting some wretched, meaningless peasants at random?"

Albeit grudgingly, Uther admired his son. Even after he had been hit by what to him must have come as a horrible blow, he tried to use the only defence still available to him, swiftly – and almost convincingly. Unimportant people made bad hostages. One might as well let them go.

"Please be so kind as to have another look at this list of warrants!"

Reflexively Arthur's gaze wandered back to the parchment. Names, names, the list seemed to be an endless one. Starting with his own name, it went on and on. With a feeling of inevitability he read the second name on the list. Guinivere, daughter of Thomas the Weapon Smith. Then Gwaine, Elyan, Lancelot and all the others, including the Earl of Ravenclaw. Well, that made sense. Bodmin had envied his life-long rival the chairmanship of the Crown Council for years. The last names on the list made Arthur inhale sharply. Geoffrey, of all people. Gaius. And, as the very last, most insignificant name of all but not to be spared in spite of that – Merlin.

"What are you going to do to them?" Arthur cocked his head towards the young warlock. "Merlin has saved your life and he almost died doing it."

Uther knew that the worst, most dangerous moment was over when he heard Arthur's voice tremble. He sighed with relief inwardly.

"As I said, that depends on you. You show me the respect and the submission you owe me and they will live. You can start by making no fuss when Bodmin comes to take you away!"

Just on cue, as if all of this was nothing more than a piece in a second-rate theatre, hooves beat on the grass outside and the sounds of soldiers dismounting reached them.

Arthur flinched and briefly he thought of escape but the thought vanished before it had really formed. He wouldn't come far but the mere attempt would be his friends' undoing. He thought of asking where he would be taken or for how long, but he knew he would not get an answer. There was only one thing left to say.

"My Lord, please. Some of these people are old or fragile. You can't…."

But this, of all things, Uther would not endure. If Arthur had fought, screamed or even tried to run – he would have had the perfect counter move. But that his son should plead for his own life or that of his friends was something the King had not foreseen. He had ruled it out. His son did not beg, not ever.

Suddenly his plan seemed feeble-minded, and ridiculously so. He knew he was doing the wrong thing but he had no way out.

Determined to save his face, Uther unsheathed his blade and pressed its point at his son's throat. "Not a word more, y' hear me? Not one word!"

Arthur gasped just once, but he did not back down. Instead he held his father's gaze, perhaps more interested in testing Uther's resolve than in saving his own life.

"By the love of the Gods, take him away before I kill him!" the King shouted at Bodmin as soon as the middle-aged noble entered the shelter.

The Earl hurried to carry out that order, terrified almost out of his wits by the thought that the King might live up to his threat and one day shove responsibility for this madness to the man who had come a few decisive seconds too late to prevent it.

Harder than he had planned to do, Bodmin grabbed the Prince's arms, twisted them behind the young man's back and dragged him out of his father's reach and sight.

Arthur did not resist. It was as if he wasn't really there when they tied him up, gagged him and forced him into a covered cart. Camelot had no desire to let the world know what had happened to her Crown Prince.

Once his prisoner – although Bodmin preferred to think of him as his ward – was secured, the Earl wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and gave the man at his side a crooked smile. "We are halfway home, Malcolm" he said.

Malcolm, Lord Saltyre, and Bodmin's younger brother, shrugged angrily. "Halfway, yes. It's the other half of the way that troubles me. But you better go in and finish your report before the mad old beast bites your head off, too. It's enough that he's lunatic enough to lash into his own; I don't need him to cut _your_ hide in stripes."

With a punitive look Bodmin went back to Uther's tent, while Saltyre scrutinized the cart with thoughtful eyes. Finally he shrugged dismissively. Malcolm truly loved his elder brother; who also was Saltyre's liege. As such and as the head of the family he had decided to use Uther's foolishness to their advantage; to get rid of Ravenclaw, to be exact. So what? To out-Herod Herod, one needed to be smarter than Angus Earl of Bodmin was; so it fell to the younger brother to see to it that this would not ruin their future.

Old Uther would never really abandon his last remaining child, no matter how loud the old lion roared and how cruelly his claws would tore at his cub's hide, he'd never give him up, that much was certain. At least to Malcolm of Saltyre.

With an energetic jump, the knight vanished inside the cart. Could do no harm to keep their prisoner company, now, could it? If brother Angus put all his trust in the setting sun, then someone in the family should try to make amends to the rising one.

Meanwhile Angus of Bodmin sputtered through his report; a task that wasn't made easier by Uther's growing impatience and restlessness. Barely ten minutes had past since Arthur's arrest and already the thought of him almost drove his father mad. Uther had had planned it all, had thought of everything – except of how he would feel about it when the moment finally came.

"So all the arrests went smoothly, Sire, the fact that the Cou…. I mean, His Royal Highness Prince Hortensius, was in charge of his men during the procedure helped matters."

Bodmin kept his worries to himself. More than two thirds of the Camelot knights were under arrest, so was the head of the Council and many other Council Members. The Crown Prince, who had ruled the country for more than nine months, was gone, too. The army was almost without ranking officers, castle and town were in turmoil and as soon as word went out, the whole country would come apart.

"Your Majesty might wish to consider either to find a solution for at least some of our knights to be released or to bring in more foreign troops. Otherwise we could run into problems." That far, Bodmin thought, he had to go, in the King's own best interest.

"Leave that to me" Uther snapped. "Have I been informed correctly? Is the wretched girl with child?"

"I had the Court Physician examine her before I had them both locked up. It's true My Lord. The young La…. I mean the wretched girl is pregnant."

"That's all I need" Uther muttered.

Bodmin worked up all the courage he had. "I took the liberty of securing her in one of the guest quarters. After all she is carrying your grandchild, Sire." No use in telling the King that this had actually been Malcolm's idea.

"She's a serf, Bodmin, the likes of her can cast their litters in a stable's corner if needs be."

"Indeed, My Lord. But as Camelot Castle is very spacious, the need will probably not come up. And by the way, the girl Guinivere's father was a yeoman when he came. She has been born free."

"He was executed as a traitor, for conspiring with sorcerers. That makes her a serf. It's the law of the land."

"Whatever you say, My Lord" Bodmin decided to drop the subject. Hopefully the King would have forgotten where his grandchild and the belly that carried had been stowed away before he reached Camelot.

Alas, Uther decided to harp on about this. "Besides, you'd oblige me by not referring to the unborn brat as my grandchild. Heaven may know whose child she's carrying."

"Your Majesty might wish to discuss this point with your son" Bodmin said, at the end of his tether. Before Uther could blow up about this insolent remark, the Earl changed the subject. "What about the serving boy, My Lord. By your original order he was to accompany your son. Where is he?"

Only now Uther remembered the young warlock, who, in his sleep, had buried himself deeply under the bed covers in the corner and become invisible. For all the King knew, sending the boy with his master would be equal to setting Arthur free at once.

"Never mind the boy, he's not important" Uther said angrily. "You better leave now; if you want to make it to the Devil's claw in time, it's almost a two days' ride from here."

To be honest, Bodmin had no desire to see the small frontier stronghold, which had its name from the peculiarly formed cliff on which it stood, earlier than he had to. Admittedly the small fortress was very strong, easy to defend and a perfect prison, well away from any frequently used road or the next settlement. But when it came to the little comforts one got used to when living in Camelot…..

What a man would do to get rid of the Baron of Ravenclaw!

Bodmin pulled himself together and bowed to his King. "I take my leave, My Lord. And may I once more say that my brother and I feel honoured by the trust Your Majesty has put in us."

"Go to hell" Uther replied, hating the man all of a sudden with a hot, fiery rage, as if this whole mess had been Bodmin's idea in the first place.

Gritting his teeth, the Earl bowed once more and turned to leave.

"My Lord Bodmin!" Uther shouted.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" the insulted man pressed out.

"My son is at _my_ mercy and pleasure, not at yours. Forget that, even for a moment, and it will cost you your head. And some other parts of your miserable body. Understood?"

Bodmin nodded curtly and went on. To say something was beyond his power of self-control right now.

Uther waited until he heard the men and cart ride off; actually he did not budge until the sounds of the cavalcade that took his son away had vanished in the distance. Only then the King drew a deep breath and went out.

In front of his tent, as by his orders they should, six of Bodmin's men were waiting, as an escort for the King on his journey back to Camelot. Uther winced at their sight. He had had completely forgotten about them.

"Get lost" he gnarled. "Get out of my sight. Go to your master. _Now_!"

"But Your Majesty can't possibly… you can't…. not _alone_." The leading officer was taken aback of the mere thought.

"I said, get lost" the King roared. "I don't need you!"

Quickly the man bowed, they all took to their heels and in an instant, they were gone.

Only afterwards it occurred to Uther that the bodies of last day's attack still were virtually littering the campsite. His eyes fell on Cedric's mutilated body and his conscience jumped on him like an angry animal.

He turned on his heels and went to the servants' tent, to look for a blanket and some ropes. By no means he would leave his servant here; not to the animals and surely not with the bodies of the men who had slaughtered him. While he rummaged through the carefully stowed provisions and equipment, he tried hard not to think about what he had done or what he was going to do the next day. And the next. And the next, until his plan would have been realized to the full extent. Naturally, just as he was trying to avoid these thoughts, he could think of nothing else.

Finally he had found all he needed, after he had thrown the stuff from the left side to the right and back again several times, far too deeply lost in his musings to focus on what he was doing with his hands.

Uther went out, his arms loaded with more blankets and ropes he'd have needed to wrap up half a dozen bodies and went back to Cedric's body, only to recoil from it in mortal fear when he saw into a pair of deep blue eyes that looked at him from the ground. "Heavens!"

With all the remorse, the doubts and the guilty conscience that were nagging at him, Uther felt as if Merlin's gaze penetrated him down to the bottom of his soul. And the King did not much like the picture that the warlock would most probably see there.

"Where's Arthur?" Merlin asked firmly, rising from Cedric's side. "I woke up and couldn't find him!"

"_Damn your insolence, you brat_" Uther thought. "_Shouldn't you at least __**look**__ fearful?_"

"He's not here anymore. I had to send him away. Some urgent business. We had visitors while you were out as a light."

"I could see that much" Merlin answered with a pointed look at the horse dung and the hoof marks on the ground. "Funny that the business was urgent enough for all the men to ride with your son, leaving you stranded. You are the King of Camelot, after all."

"I…. I wanted to talk to you" Uther said lamely. "Surely you understand why I could not have my son being with us right now."

"No!"

Merlin's eyes were cautious now, and very alert. His muscles tensed and his magic rose inside him, like a quarry, wary of the hunter. There was only one reason why Uther Pendragon would wish to be alone with a warlock in a forest clearing, and this reason had nothing to do with saying "thank you". As Arthur would, for exactly that reason, never have left him willingly, something was very, very wrong here. Merlin thought he could smell the lie and the stink of betrayal and false play on his counterpart. It was something he had learned after Morgana had betrayed him.

"What have you done to your son?"

With an effort, the King refrained from running away like a scared child. The change from a young, meaningless peasant boy to a very threatening figure was – remarkable, to say the least. The more so as the boy obviously had no idea he was doing it.

"All right" Uther said curtly. "While you were asleep, healing yourself, our former attackers got some reinforcements. They attacked us and they've got my son. I couldn't hinder it and of that I'm not especially proud, you understand? Now, if you help me with Cedric, we can be on our way. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can send out men to find Arthur."

"Why are _we_ still alive?"

"_Oh, to hell with you!_" Uther thought. "Because they did not see you under the covers and they need _me_ to pay the ransom. Isn't that obvious?"

Merlin nodded reluctantly. This made some sense but there were still holes in the story. "Where did they go with their prisoner? It would save much time and effort if I could find them now, while they are still under way."

"And when you find them, you do what?" an exasperated King asked. "Defeat them single-handed, blow them all to Kingdom come and bring my son back home?"

"Yes!"

Uther swallowed hard. Yes. Just like that. A bunch of bandits has captured a Prince? So what? Piece of cake. _If_ one was a warlock.

"_Tell him!_" The thought shot through the King's head like a lightening, painful, frightening, but also shedding light on otherwise dark and scary places. "_Tell him to kill Bodmin and his men, to bring Arthur __back to Camelot. Tell your son it was all a mistake, that you did not know what you were doing, that you are sorry. Chuck out your bitch of a sister and her idiotic whelp!_"

Merlin returned the King's gaze steadily. It was clear that he wanted to know more and that he thought he wouldn't get it by playing this too hard. Perhaps he pondered to run and save himself, but for now, he apparently felt suitably secure to stay and try to learn a bit more about his master's fate.

"_He's a warlock_" Uther thought. "_One word from you and he brings your boy back home._ _Nobody will be the wiser._ _Arthur wouldn't talk_._ Tell him now!_"

"You know what I am" Merlin said. "No need to hide from you anymore. Your son is the closest friend I have. I would never give up on him. Tell me where he has been taken and I _will_ bring him back."

"I appreciate your offer, Merlin. But it's just too dangerous. For Arthur, I mean. We have a much better chance when they come to collect the ransom. For now I want you to come back home with me. I'm sure Arthur would want the same, if he were here right now."

"_Idiot!_" Uther's inner voice screamed at him. "_End this while you still can. You do not really want this, you never did. Blast your stupid stubborn pride. End this!_"

But he knew that he couldn't. Against all his better judgement, all his instincts as a father, all his love and care for his son - his hurt pride and his invincible will to get his way at any costs would be stronger in the end. He had always been like that. It had brought his Kingdom from its knees. It had made him the victor even against the very heart of magic itself, the Isle of the Blessed. And it would, one day, be the reason for his downfall. And yet, it was the very thing that had made him the man he was. The man he wanted to be. To give it up would be worse than death.

The whole Kingdom had seen him weak, defeated, outsmarted by two bloody witches; one of them had been his own daughter. Helplessly he had been forced to wait for his son and a bunch of commoners to stage a gallant rescue and afterwards – afterwards he had been confined to his quarters as an useless imbecile, a senile left-over from ancient times while his son had become the centre of Camelot, only to waste his father's life work on a fool's errand to make peace with the Pendragons' most mortal enemies. It had needed his sister, of all people, to open Uther's eyes to all this.

He would not allow Arthur to get away with that. The Kingdom would learn that Uther Pendragon was still a force to be reckoned with. When he had finished what he had started today, his heir would have no other choice but to continue what Uther had begun – the next King of Camelot would finally see the extinction of magic.

Uther's heart beat stronger when he thought of his intentions and he forgot about the magician who was facing him right now.

"What about me?" Merlin asked, bringing the King's mind back to earth with an uncomfortable, if inaudible, 'thud'. "You know what I am and yet you tell me to go to Camelot with you?"

"Actually, I don't." Only when he had said it, Uther knew it to be true. Surprisingly he had no wish to see the warlock dead, but he also had no wish to see him at all. Not after this day. "You see, once Arthur is back in Camelot, this can't go on. Sooner or later somebody else would find you out and then what? Go back to your village, live your life as you please, but stay away from me and my son from now on."

Surely this would be the best solution. Arthur would not know until after his return to Camelot, which would occur in six or seven months from now, at the very earliest. By then the young peasant boy would be forgotten by everyone, especially by his princely master, who would have other cares to occupy his mind. Sometime, somehow in the years to come, there would be a way to deal with this special sorcerer, one way or the other.

Merlin nodded, and bit his lip. For a second he looked so very crestfallen that Uther had to fight the absurd urge to pat his head or to hug him.

"I'm off, then" the warlock said. "I'll just fetch my things and then I'll go, if you don't mind."

The absurdity of the whole situation suddenly caught up with the King. Here he was, loaded with old blankets to wrap up his servant's carcass, with a possibly almighty sorcerer asking his leave to collect his few meagre possessions and vanish into the mists of Avalon for all he knew. "Go ahead" he said. "Take whatever you want."

The wizard nodded again. "Thank you" he said, very politely. He even gave a little, impeccable bow to the King.

Shaking his head at the enigmatic behaviour, Uther began to finally wrap up Cedric's body and to burden one of the pack horses with it. All the rest of their stuff would have to rot here, together with the bandits' bodies. He had no intention to send someone to the place where a father had lost his son forever, because a King had decided that his heir would do his bidding, no matter what the price would be.

When he had finally finished his work, Uther went to both tents for one last time. It had occurred to him to collect Arthur's sword and knife and some other items he knew his son would want to have back eventually.

For some inexplicable reason he had been sure that Merlin would still be around, but the warlock was gone. No sound, no things or other traces showed that he had ever been there.

With a casual shrug, Uther dismissed the wizard from his mind and searched in the messed up mass of bedding, clothes and weapons for his son's odds and ends. He found the sword and the fighting knife easily, but the search for the smaller hunting knife proved to be more difficult.

Uther searched and searched, but he could not find it. Finally he had to admit to himself that the fine knife, with its intricate carvings, the gold inlays and the splendid jewels, was gone for good.

Angrily the King remembered his own words "_take whatever you want_". The weapon was extremely valuable. No wonder the boy had taken it. So Arthur's precious so called friend was as greedy as the rest of the lot. Sorcerers! They were all alike.

Damn shame, though. The knife had been very precious to Arthur. He had inherited it from Igraine. It was one of the few items that connected the son to the mother he had never known. Uther had waited until his son's 18th birthday before he had given it to him.

Uther remembered this day now. Late at night, when the feast had ended, he had been looking for his son, only to find him asleep in his bed, the – fortunately sheathed – blade still in his hand.

Come to think of it, Arthur had never been one who set his heart on dead things; his furniture, his clothes, even the weapons he used had been chosen for rational reasons alone and they had been exchanged for others when the necessity came up. One could well say that this knife had been one of the most personal, most private and cherished possessions Arthur had ever had.

Uther was still angry when he mounted his horse and took the pack horse's bridle, especially as he only now realized that he would have to absolve a full day's ride with a corpse as his only company.

After some more angry musings he forgot about the knife. Arthur would have other things to dwell on before this was over.

His father would make sure of that.


	8. The warlock's quest

**8. The warlock's quest**

Buried deep into the brushwood and the mouldering remainders of once proud trees and blooming flowers, Merlin watched Uther's departure with a sick feeling in his stomach. He had heard the restless searching, as well as the angry mumbling afterwards.

It was idiotic, but Merlin had come to like Uther, - and to crave his respect. Not that the King had given him much reason, ever. Maybe it was impossible to be close to a man; even to save his life, time and again, without coming to feel, well, connected to him, and not just because he was the father of one's best friend.

Anyway, that Uther should think his son's warlock-servant and most gallant protector a thief and greedy coward peeved the wizard bitterly. Doubtlessly the King would use this. He would tell everyone in Camelot that he had been forced to get rid of Merlin because the boy was a thief. Not even his worry for his son would keep him from wagging his tongue. Merlin winced at the thought of what Gaius would think of that. Or Leon, Lancelot and the other knights. Probably Gwaine wouldn't give a damn; he'd laugh at the notion. Merlin tried to hang on to the image of Gwaine, laughing the accusation away. It was a bit comforting, this picture.

Once Uther had vanished from sight, the wizard dug in his bag and pulled the hunting knife, still in its intricately embroidered leather sheath, out of his clothes and other stuff. He stroke the beautiful item with his fingers, deeply in thought now, all musings of Camelot's tittle-tattle fading from his mind as he focused on the task ahead. He had some experience with tracking spells, but not much. And this time he had decided instantly that his usual spells would not do.

There had been something disturbing in Uther's face and composure when he had been talking about Arthur's abduction. As if he had been the culprit of it. Surely, the man would feel awkward and embarrassed if his son had been taken right under his nose, without him being able to do something about it, and yet….

Sighing, Merlin tugged the knife away safely in his belt, underneath his own, sturdy but much less valuable dagger. There it would be out of sight until he needed it.

First of all he had to find a place with cool, pure water that did not move but was alive and fresh, not caught in a basin and rotting.

After a while he found what he had been looking for, a small pond, fed by a constant trickle of spring water that came from a rock. The sunlight shimmered on the calm surface – in other words, this was ideal.

Hastily, Merlin spread his bedding and his other stuff for the night, for once glad that his insignificant belongings were too few to keep him much occupied with caring for them.

Finally, he took out the hunting knife again and went to the small pond where he knelt down, unsheathed the knife and held it in both hands, focussing all his magic around the small item that was still warm from his body, as if Arthur had been holding it, only a second ago.

The old language came fluently, effortlessly when Merlin started the incantations that, if they worked, would allow him to see and hear what was happening to his friend right now. Obviously the "hearing" part was the most difficult one, at least, that's what had been said in Merlin's book.

The water began to move, restlessly it flowed away from and back towards the pond's edges, a mist formed at its ground and climbed upwards; an iridescent light shimmered eerily under the surface and Merlin gasped with relief when Arthur's face, shadowy but unmistakable, began to form in the water, like a reflection in an old, half blind mirror.

So the knife had been dear enough to Arthur's heart to form a bond. That had been one of the most important obstacles to Merlin's plan; the spoiled brat cared as little about his things as Merlin did. So the one had too many and the other too few possessions to give them much thought; except for the wooden dragon Balinor had carved for his son. Or for the neckerchiefs Merlin had got from his mother.

Angrily the warlock shook his head when the pictures in the water faded away. What was he thinking of Ealdor now? It was the one place where he would _not_ find his friend.

As he was now sure that he had found a stable bond to Arthur, it was about time to begin the next stage of the spell; letting the knife do the actual searching for the man it belonged to.

That, however, took annoyingly long. Merlin flexed his hand impatiently. If only Arthur had brought a fluffy toy or something of the kind; something warm and soft and lovable. This was knife, an item meant to kill and destroy and it had done so very often. Arthur cherished it because it had once belonged to his mother, but it wasn't exactly the kind of thing one would take to bed in the night or curl up against.

Well, maybe the royal prat would. He _loved_ weapons.

Finally the water whirled again and then Merlin could see a covered cart, surrounded by knights and soldiers riding through the woods, not on one of the few roads but straight through the undergrowth, as fast as possible.

The knife hummed softly to Merlin's ears, as if in satisfaction. There was no doubt that it had found its master.

The wizard frowned when he looked at the men the water was showing him. The Pendragon crest on their uniforms was conspicuously shimmering on their armour and banners in the last rays of evening light. So much for Arthur being in the hands of bandits! Merlin recognized some of the faces now. The Earl of Bodmin he had seen frequently at Court; his head knight, now at his right side, and his younger brother, who just now looked out of the cart were also well known to the Crown Prince's servant.

But if the Prince had really just rode off with some of his father's men on heaven may know what secret mission, where was he now?

In vain Merlin searched the group of riders for his friend. With a jerk he recognized Arthur's horse, the chestnut stallion the Prince had taken for the hunting expedition, as he had not wanted to confront his father about Stormcloud still grazing earthly pastures. But the horse's saddle was empty.

The warlock looked angrily at the knife. Stupid thing, it was the man he was looking for, not the damn horse!

As if it had been terrified by the wizard's wrath, the knife flinched in his hands and the humming changed ever so lightly, to a higher pitch. The perspective of the picture changed, and suddenly Merlin was inside the cart, looking at two men.

The knife almost flew from Merlin's hands when he jumped in angry surprise at the sight of his friend, bound and gagged, tied to the brim of the cart. The picture vanished from the pond as the warlock's concentration was broken and he hurried to bring it back, but it took a few precious minutes before he had regained the necessary calm.

No wonder Uther had been that aggravated and ashamed. Treason! This was a most awful betrayal, committed by people who had been very close to father and son for many years. An angry shudder ran down Merlin's spine when he remembered that he had actually thought the unfortunate father to be the driving force behind Arthur's abduction!

The warlock pulled himself together with a will and his focus turned once more to the matter at hand. Once he was back in the cart, he could see that Saltyre must have taken the gag off Arthur's mouth, to pass him some water. Now they were talking, but naturally, this didn't the wizard any good, at least, not yet.

Muttering the final part of the spell as fast as possible, Merlin cut his own finger and pressed a few drops of blood, first into the water, then on the knife's blade, before he held the weapon under water as if it was something he wanted to drown. "_Here we go again_" he thought tiredly. "_Eavesdropping on some __wretched__ people. Damn dirty business_." And yet, his shoulders lost some of their tension when the first sounds reached him.

"Frankly, I don't see the reason in keeping you tied up like that" Malcolm was just saying. "It's not as if you would make a run for it, not as long as the others are safely locked away in Camelot. At least we can do without the gag until my brother checks up on you. If you stay quiet, that is."

"Why is the Earl so eager to see me like that?" Arthur asked softly. "I thought his feud is with Ravenclaw, not with me."

"My brother is simply carrying out your father's orders to the letter. And I mean it. King Uther gave him a virtual epistle with orders for how you are to be treated. Your old man really wants to run it down your throat, I'm afraid."

In the grip of a mortifying, nauseating disappointment, Merlin's stomach twisted into an aching, tight knot and bile rose in his throat. Even after four years in Camelot, Arthur's frequent idolization of his father was an influence strong enough to sometimes blind his warlock friend to Uther's faults. Other than Gaius Merlin was not yet used to the cruel awakening that came after these delusions. His free hand dug into the ground as if it was Uther's body. He remembered the night in which he had prevented Morgana from cutting Uther's heart out, and he regretted that night with all the bitterness useless remorse can create. Why, oh, why, why, why had he ever thought this heartless, treacherous bastard to be worth a farthing?

"What do you know about my friends?" the Prince was just asking. "Were you in Camelot when they were arrested?"

"Yes. For obvious reasons your father used the Gaulish for this dirty work, together with the Bodmin and the Saltyre guards." It was visible that he wasn't proud of that, but saw no use in hiding the obvious.

"I had the honour of running after your precious Cousin when he gathered your people up. They were so unsuspecting and clueless, it was like collecting mushrooms. Dear Horty started with Leon and the others from your bunch; your friend Gwaine almost got away, I think that guy doesn't know the meaning of the word 'unsuspecting'; but he gave it up when he realized that the others had been taken."

It was clear from Malcolm's apologetic smile that there was more to that part of the story, yet Arthur did not ask; he just looked down for a moment, unwittingly leaving a fretting warlock clueless as to what had really happened to one of his favourite knights.

"After they had got the knights and some of the guard officers, the rest was just a child's game" Malcolm continued. "Ravenclaw was the only one who really put up a fight; he and one of his men killed or injured two of my guards and four of the Gaulish before they could be overwhelmed. The old bastard is tough as leather, I grant him that. Now he's sitting in the guards' tower's vaults, fretting like hell, and if your father should somehow lose the key to his cell, I wouldn't be averse."

"You must some day tell me the great story behind your old feud. Sounds like a tale worth to be told."

"Did your father never tell you why the Branguards and the Ravenclaws are sworn enemies? It started before my brother was made Earl of Bodmin, long before you were born, actually. King Uther wasn't completely innocent of it. But that's a tale for a long, dark winter's eve. You will be facing many of those once we've reached our destination."

Arthur turned his head away. He had heard what he had been waiting for, although it brought him no joy.

Malcolm grinned ruefully. "No need to nose out my secrets, Your Highness. I'm not the one keeping things from you. It's useless anyway, you'll know where we are once we've arrived there and you will be the first to count the days you have to spend there. Devil's Claw is no place to stay for long, not if you have a choice, that is."

"The King has chosen well." Arthur winced slightly as he whispered it. "_A place of my choosing_" his father had said. Having taught his heir again and again that aristocrats had to be choosy, that it was part of their birthright as well as of their pride and dignity, this dirty, dark hole was the perfect place to dispose of a useless, annoying son one wanted to be forgotten.

However, the Prince was rattled from any thoughts about his own fate when he suddenly remembered that Devil's Claw held yet another meaning, a meaning which under the circumstances could be much more sinister. In fact, if his father knew about the secrets the long since abandoned villages and forest settlements around the small stronghold were keeping since last winter, it would be the end of more men than only Arthur Pendragon.

His thoughts were mirrored in his face, clearly visible at least for one who knew him as well as Merlin did. Or for someone who was watching him as closely as Malcolm just was.

"Trust me, Arthur, no one will be stupid enough to tell your father about the Druid tribes you permitted to settle down there. We were all in this, not only you and Ravenclaw. I was barely able to get rid of the Council Meeting's minutes and of the copy of the orders you signed before your precious Aunt stuck her long, snivelling nose into the registries. The Druids are safe, for all I know, as long as Geoffrey and the others keep their mouths shut."

Arthur drew a deep breath and some of his usual resolve came back to his features. "What about him and the others?"

"Naturally the old men made no fuss when they were arrested. Gaius only protested when Hortensius wanted to throw the girl in the dungeons; bad idea anyway, I mean, she was terrified and in her condition, how could anyone…."

Malcolm Branguard, Lord of Saltyre, was one of the most insensitive men living, but even he broke off and wished his rash tongue to hell when Arthur looked at him in that moment.

Merlin forgot to breathe, too.

"You didn't know" Saltyre stated. "She didn't tell you before you left."

"Tell me what?"

"That she's with child. Apparently your dear Aunt had snivelled that out, too and informed your father that your Gwen had made it a habit to frequently see a healer in the lower town and to buy some herbs or whatever stuff women fancy when they are about to whel…., I mean, when they are expecting. Your father had given order that she was to be examined on her arrest and Gaius confirmed it. She's pregnant."

"Were you present during the examination?"

Merlin suddenly wanted to kick Arthur's ass. Was _that_ the most important question now?

"Yes" Malcolm said, only to clear his throat immediately afterwards. "I mean, no, of course not, not really. I only heard what Gaius said to her. That she was very well and that she would have a fine child in five months or so."

"_All right_" Merlin thought ruefully "_maybe it was the most important que__s__tion_."

Malcolm hesitated a second, then he added "my brother gave order to bring her to one of the guest quarters." So what that this was a lie? Angus could use all the chances he could get to endear himself to his princely prisoner. Stupid as his elder brother could be at times, he would not find these chances on his own. "Hortensius is an idiot" Malcolm continued. "It's the King's grandchild she's carrying, after all. At the end of the day, that will count for a lot, no matter what your father is growling now that he's angry. He'll calm down in the end; he always has in the past and then bye, bye Horty and good riddance."

"Is that why we are having this conversation?"

"Yes, naturally. My brother is the one who is busy keeping your father satisfied, why shouldn't I try to keep our family in _your_ good graces? When this is over it will be you and your father again, for all of us, and, between the two of us, when has your old man ever taken the blame for his own blunders? As soon as he really starts missing you, he'll hold _us_ responsible for every scratch in your skin; he'd set off Ravenclaw against us as easily as he set off us against you now, without a second thought. You wouldn't do such a thing. You are different. I've always said so."

"You aren't exactly subtle, are you Malcolm."

"We are living in an unsubtle world, Your Highness. Or would you say that what your father is doing right now has anything to do with subtlety?"

"I take it that your loyalty to me does not include an irresistible urge to set me free?"

"My brother is my Liege, My Lord, as well as very dear to me. Your father would kill him without a second thought. For the moment you are a just a prisoner, helpless and at your father's mercy. As long as Uther is holding all the cards we can only sit tight and wait for better days to come. And if you ran now, these better days would never dawn on us."

Whatever Arthur had wanted to say to that, he had no opportunity to say it. The cart came to a hold and someone nestled at the canvas that covered its frame. Without hesitation, Saltyre forced the gag back into the Prince's mouth and pulled it tight, although Arthur struggled furiously, as far as the ropes would let him.

"What are you doing?" Bodmin asked suspiciously.

"He needed water" his brother said curtly. "He's not as frugal as a donkey."

The Earl's face flushed with red and for a second, Merlin's always readily forgiving heart went out to the man. Until Bodmin grabbed his prisoner roughly to check his bonds.

Merlin saw the humiliation in Arthur's face and decided that he had seen enough. He also knew that he would never tell his friend what he had seen and heard.

While he broke off the spell and dried the knife, to stow it away again, another unpleasant fact became obvious to him – he had some vague idea of where Devil's Claw was and he was quite sure that he would be able to free the Prince, now that he was no longer forced to hide his abilities from anyone. Especially if there were some Druid magicians near, who actually were deeply indebted to the Prince of Camelot. Although Arthur had never seen it that way. The events around the taking of the Cup of Life still deeply troubled his conscience.

But nothing of that would be of use. Arthur wouldn't come with him. Not as long as the others were in Uther's hands, Saltyre had been perfectly right about that. So there was nothing for it. Although the very thought made his stomach crawl with ants, he had to abandon the search for Arthur and to return to Camelot, first.

If it was the ordeal of the day before, the strain the complicated spell had put on him or the awkward feeling of failing his best friend either way - Merlin suddenly felt utterly exhausted. Sad, disgusted, virtually sickened by what he had heard about Uther he curled up on his blanket and stared at the trees.

It had been a long time since he had spent a night in the forest alone. He was way too tired to sleep and slowly, but surely, his eyes began to water. Angrily he wiped them dry. But it was no use. They would overflow again and again.

Finally Merlin gave up the struggle against his emotions. What was the use? Arthur wasn't there to see him, to mock him about being such a girl. All his friends were somewhere else, grieving, terrified, perhaps in mortal danger. For no fault of their own. Just because an old, bitter man, who had made too many mistakes in his life to come to terms with his own conscience had thought it necessary to show the world how very strong he was.

By now the warlock trembled with rage. His breathing was ragged and all his muscles tensed. The tension rose and rose until finally he roared at the top of his lungs. In one great outburst his magic ransacked the clearing, trees, bushes, anything. Animals fled and the trees bent under the sudden onslaught of an unnatural storm. Branches and stones where caught in its whirl, until every single piece of wood or rock had been sucked away, together with some living creatures.

For once in his life Merlin did not care who or what might be caught in his wrath, he let it flow, relieving his soul from the burden at the wood's expense.

He would deeply regret what he had done in the morning. He would be mortally ashamed by having lost his self-control like that. Making the creatures of the forest suffer for his own unhappiness was what Uther would have done; Merlin usually prided himself of being above such actions.

But if he had seen this very moment of frenzy, this nightly rage – not even Arthur Pendragon would have thought of calling this raging warlock a whimpering girl.

Never again.


	9. Ravenclaw

**9. Ravenclaw**

Other than in the night before, the young man that crawled from his covers and bedding at tomorrow's first light, hungry, lonely and still not fully sure that what he was about to do was the right thing, bore no resemblance to a powerful warlock.

Three full hours Merlin wasted on thinking. His every fibre called for summoning the dragon and taking Devil's Claw with one strike. They would pay for what they had done to his friend. Every single one of them would regret that they had put their stupid, selfish interests before their loyalty to their future King. The expression he had seen on the Prince's face, the thought of how Arthur must feel after his own father had betrayed him like that – Merlin could no longer sit still, he jumped to his feet and began pacing; finally banging his fist against the rock until the pain in his mutilated hand sobered him.

No, it wouldn't help. Arthur would have his hide for such an action. It would endanger the hostages as well as eventually pull the King's attention to what was going on in these forgotten woods. Khilgarrah could fly away easily; however, the Druids could not.

As it had so often done in the past, the situation called for hiding most of his abilities; no gallant flights, no terrifying attacks with fire and raging magic. He would have to sneak into his own home and see that he got through to the others, especially to the knights. Once again magic would only be harnessed to free the swords to do their work. This was the way people could comprehend, the way they would expect things to be when a King and a Prince fell out with each other. Roaring dragons and blinding magic would only close people's heart towards everything Merlin had been fighting for.

So, on the early afternoon of that day, a very vexed, but also very resolved warlock walked through the vast woodlands that covered the land between mountain range and Camelot Castle. He halted on the last hill from where the distant castle and town could be sighted before the land gently sloped down towards the main road.

Quietly Merlin murmured another spell and in his eyes the castle became larger, all details clearly displayed to the young man on the hill's edge. Plainly visible, softly swaying in the afternoon breeze, the royal banner of the Pendragons flew from the main turret's top.

So Uther had beaten him to the citadel, as he had expected. On his arrival in the town he would learn what the King had decided on his prisoners – and what people thought about it. Rumours always spread through the lower town like wildfire, and there people were quick to judge as well as quick to speak their mind. There was always more information to be gathered from the tittle-tattle in the baker's shop than in all the upper town's splendid houses with their carefully guarded conversations.

Merlin fished an old, worn-out hooded shirt out of his bag and pulled it over his tunic. The hood should cover his head and face sufficiently. He mustered the rest of his appearance and sighed. Running around the place in Arthur's – or Gaius' – wake for four years had its disadvantages, one of them being the fact that his markings were as well known to the lower town people as those of the Crown Prince himself.

The warlock's shoulders sank for a moment. Gods, he hated spells that changed one's appearance. Aging spells were too complicated anyway and all the others itched. Actually they itched like hell. Two hours of blond hair and brown eyes and he would scratch his body in the most impossible places for days.

He was lucky that the royal dollop head would not be around to send him to Gaius with the strictest order to use the bath-tube before his lice would spread all over the place.

With another sigh Merlin resigned to his fate. His eyes flashed golden and a very handsome young man with red-gold hair and eyes of forest green left the woods. If one had to accept the inconveniences one might as well have something out of it.

At least he could do without the ugly hood now.

The wizard's first way once inside the town was to one of the taverns that was frequently used by the locals, more than by traders or other foreigners. He ordered a tankard of mead and sat down quietly in the corner.

He did not have to wait for long.

"Oh, shut that big mouth of ya" the landlady barked at one of her customers. "It's monstrous, I say, monstrous. So proud he was, the King, when he rode through with the little 'un on this big 'orse of his. He'd never touch the boy and that's a fact."

"Well, Minnie that wasn't exactly yesterday now, was it" her counterpart defended himself. "He's not a little 'un anymore, the Prince is not. The way he took over from his old Sire I'd say he's outgrown his nappies a while ago. Became too big for his daddy's liking and that was that. T'wasn't the Druids who took the boy, t'was his own father and no one else, that's what I say."

"So 'is Majesty's has thrown his own kid into a kennel now, or he has killed the wretched lad, is that it?" Minnie answered derisively. "And where does your wisdom come from, clever clogs? The whole citadel is humming with what the King said about them awful Druids taking young Arthur from his side."

Deftly she wiped the tankard she had been cleaning and put it on the shelf. "My sister in law's youngest cousin is a friend of the first kitchen maid who used to be very friendly with one of Cedric's helpmates and she knows what's what and she says her friend says that Cedric has been slain by a sword, just as the King said he had been. And that means the rest of the story is also true!"

Triumphantly Minnie looked around and all who knew the indomitable strength of her arms as well as her long memory nodded enthusiastically.

Alas, the butcher's apprentice whom she was talking to wasn't impressed by her logic. "Don't be so grand, M'am, you with your royal relations, my ass. Could well have been the King's own sword that killed Cedric. Old Uther had it in him to drown all the poor little 'uns in the Great Purge, he's able to do anything, even to his own kid, especially after that bitch of a ward put some bats in his belfry. And what about all the wretched creatures he had arrested, eh? That was the minute he and the Prince had passed the gates. Half the castle's in the dungeons right now. Now I ask you, what have the Druids to do with that, aye? Aye?"

It was obvious that Minnie was planning a strategic retreat while he was still speaking. Wisely she shook her head and a very thoughtful frown grazed her otherwise plain features. "Well, it's not for the likes of us to talk such rubbish anyways, is it" she said haughtily. "The King said he'd make a prolamination today and then we'll know what's what."

"After the _proclamation _we'll only know what the King wants us to know and nothing more" an elderly man, a stone mason by his clothes and gear, now said. "I am with Jason in this. Whoever has taken our Arthur, I'll broach a cask of your finest for all of us at my expense when the boy is back safely. I don't trust the King anymore. I'd be with the Prince any day."

"There is another Pendragon Prince" a third man chimed in and with a start Merlin recognized a member of the citadel's kitchen staff in the small and unobtrusive man. "That supercilious brat Hortensius and his mother are bowing and scraping around the King as if their lives depended on it. Or maybe not _their_ lives, if you follow my drift." He banged his tankard on the table to support his words. "I know one thing for a fact: The Druids have no reason to go after our Prince, not after what Arthur has done for them. His own family, on the other hand – well, that's another kettle of fish altogether."

As he had spoken with all the authority of one who was intimate with all that went on in the royal castle, nobody dared oppose him.

"Whatever" Minnie eventually finalized the discussion. "I for one will listen to what old Uther has to say for himself. You can come with me or all go an' rot for all I care. This tavern is closed until further notice."

The customers, dissatisfied by the interruption of their comfortable rambling, grumbled and pushed each other while they gulped down the remainder of their food and drink before they all shuffled out, with Minnie in their wake.

Merlin followed them to the citadel's great square, facing the balcony from which Uther used to deliver all his speeches to his sometimes more, sometimes less appreciative people. What he had heard so far had left him more confused than before. Whatever was Uther up to?

The crowd murmured and shifted when the King finally entered the balcony, once more attained with all the splendour and finery that belonged to his high office. Merlin's experienced eye found no fault in the King's attire except for one. It was definitely the wrong Pendragon Prince that flanked Uther's right side. And where once, in happier days, Morgana would have been standing; Matilda shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

"My faithful people of Camelot" Uther began "I am grateful for your coming to me, in this hour of grief. Once more magic has struck cruelly at our very heart. Not only have magicians used my hour of weakness, of grief and solitude to blind me to those who are dear to me; to stir up my rage against those who are most loyal to me and who've served me many years. They also have taken away what we all cherish more than anything else. My son, who had taken it upon him to offer peace to those people, has become their prisoner. I myself had to witness his abduction and heaven alone may know where he has been taken - or to what purpose."

"_I don't believe this_" Merlin thought when he heard Uther's voice tremble; saw him actually wipe his eyes. "_Gods, I knew him to be a hypocrite but this – that's so outrageous, it's almost adorable. Talking of __**magicians**__ having corrupted souls!_"

"It may well" the King meanwhile continued, broke off, grabbed the balustrade in an obvious attempt to regain his countenance, every inch the heartbroken father, fragile, vulnerable – the most lovable, pitiable person in all Albion. "It may well be that my son will never come back to us, that he will perish under the hands of the very people to whom he had stretched out _his_ hand in peace. Let this be a warning to us all, to each and every one of you. Magic is evil; it always was and always will be a corrupting force. We will not suffer one single magician to live. Far too long we have been lenient; we have become fat and lazy in our misguided complacency. Now the time for clemency is over. As of today…." with that he turned to Becco and laid his hand on the young Comte's shoulder "our beloved nephew Prince Hortensius will be in command of all of Camelot's troops and knights. He has taken it upon his honour that my son, our beloved Crown Prince, will be found and rescued from whatever evil his captors have in mind. The Prince will neither rest nor sleep before the Crown Prince's whereabouts and fate are revealed to us."

Through all his anger and his disgust Merlin felt an unearthly smile spread on his freckled, handsome features while his green eyes were gleaming with amusement. He looked at Matilda's and Becco's crestfallen faces and felt his spirits rising in spite of everything. Twice Uther had emphasized who was the Crown Prince of Camelot; with that the King had condoned all of Arthur's actions as regent; he had made it abundantly clear that he had no intention whatsoever of disowning his son. As it was Uther who held Arthur's release in his hand, Becco could as well bury his hopes to take his Cousin's position until the day all cows came home.

"_This put you in your shoes, you greedy bastard_" the warlock thought, ignoring the excited murmur of the people around him. So it came to pass that the following words caught him completely off guard, while the others had already guessed where this was leading, at least partly.

"However, while our hearts and hopes are with my son in this moment, we must not forget to safeguard our future against those who would wish to destroy it" Uther now shouted commandingly. "We have proved beyond all doubt that the one who was responsible for the false accusations against my most trusted advisers was no other but the head of our own Crown Council, the Baron of Ravenclaw. He will be held in custody for further investigations. All the others presently in the dungeons will be released. I – we all – will need their support, their advice, strength and loyalty in the dangerous times that lie ahead of us. It was a mistake to give up the fight against magic. The Great Purge must and will continue. For that our own troops will not suffice. My beloved sister and her son, Prince Hortensius, have therefore pledged me their word to send us help. 300 knights and 700 soldiers from the Auvergne are already on their way to us, to aid us in our strife.

Merlin stood thunderstruck. So this part of the great plan had been contrived long before Matilda had confronted her brother with the Council papers that had brought about Arthur's arrest. There was no other way; Arthur had once shown it to him on a map. The Auvergne was too far away. For its troops being already on their way, the request for their departure must have been sent prior to Matilda's arrival in Camelot. This _had_ to be the real reason behind Uther's invitation to his sister.

There simply was no other explanation. For months the King had been plotting to get hold of the people who had almost taken his Crown away from him - Uther was after his _daughter _and her sister. Obviously the King had been planning to have Morgana's head ever since he had been able to think straight after his ordeal. Or what counted as "straight thinking" in a mind so twisted and hurt by disappointment, filled with the thirst for revenge and the iron will to prove his unfailing strength.

Things snapped in place in Merlin's head. Arthur's peace policy towards the Druids could not have come in a more inopportune moment for his father! And the Crown Prince's most prominent supporter, of all people, was the head of the Crown Council whose consent Uther would need to keep the foreign troops in Camelot.

Merlin had learned much from his royal friend during these last nine months; especially about the delicate balance between a Liege and his nobles when it came to money and soldiers. Sometime, somehow during his confrontation with his son after Matilda had shown the Council papers to her brother, Uther must have decided to link his secret plans for a second purge with an impromptu plan to have his unreliable son out of the way for the time being.

If this quickly made up plan also gave the King an opportunity to teach this son a lesson in humility, as well as a chance to bait stupid Becco into doing all the dirty work – even better.

Grudgingly Merlin admired the brilliance and boldness of the plan. Who would blame the unfortunate King if his own treacherous ward was caught in the second purge that had become inevitable after the evil Druid magicians had laid their hands on the innocent and much beloved Crown Prince himself?

But as he thought of what this brilliant plan would mean for the innocent Druids, men, women, children; Merlin's admiration faded away. Gaius had told him enough about the Great Purge to know what these 1000 men from the Auvergne would do, once they had found the hapless villages.

The great dream of a peaceful Camelot under Arthur's rule, where magicians would be free and respected, would come to nothing. Never again would peace be possible between Camelot and the holders of magic. Even after Uther's death, his heirs would be forced to keep fighting magic in order to survive; the retaliations from both sides would keep the bloody strife alive to all eternity.

Sad and worried sick, Merlin turned around a corner into a darker alley, away from the still excitedly talking crowd that had left the square together with the young warlock. Uther had got what he had wanted. The mood now was with him; almost everyone had fallen for the act of the grief-stricken father and the most conscientious King. Those who had not were yelled down by the others and fell silent soon enough, keeping their doubts and fears to themselves.

On his arrival at Gwen's little house, Merlin used a spell to open the door and vanish inside. Another spell gave him back his own appearances. He sat down on the bed and began his wait. Absentmindedly scratching his arms, neck, back and almost every other inch of his body in turn, he doubted that Uther would really leave Gaius out of his eyes any time soon; or Geoffrey, for that matter. But sooner or later one of his and Arthur's friends would show up here, hopefully Gwen herself.

However, when the door was cautiously opened, it wasn't Guinivere.

"Merlin" a familiar but most unexpected voice whispered. "Are you in there?"

The voice was followed by a man who sneaked inside and closed the door softly behind him.

The young warlock rose. Disbelieving, almost dumbfounded, he looked into the face of the Baron of Ravenclaw.

"What….. how?...Where the hell do you come from?"

"Directly from Uther's dungeons, my boy. I had very much hoped to find you somewhere in Camelot when Uther didn't bring you back; after all I knew that you had not been taken together with the Prince, for all our most clever King's great plans."

"You knew? But how? And how did you escape?" Merlin didn't comprehend anything of this.

"Geoffrey informed me of the King's intentions in advance; except for the warrants for his own and my arrest. Naturally those Uther wrote out himself, shrewd bastard. And the lock and bolt that can hold me is yet to be build" the Baron answered casually. "Some little birds sung to me that it was you who spoiled my plans in the forest. Seven of my men dead. And Cedric. A crying shame that he decided to stay with Uther in the end. I really thought the perspective of Arthur being taken like a disobedient dog would turn him against his master."

"That was _you_?" Merlin felt his legs go limp. "You ordered your men to murder Uther in the forest?"

"What better way to rid the Prince of his murderous bastard of a father? If Uther had been killed by some bandits in the forest, Arthur would have had no reason to hate magic, had he? He would have gone on idolizing his father, the great King, but he also would have continued his peace policy and our kind would finally have been free. Thanks to you, my boy, all this came to nothing."

"Our kind?"

"Yes, my son, _our_ kind! You have completely misread your task, my dear Emrys. Your duty was not to befriend the Prince, to clear his path from every stumbling stone and to keep away all grief from his tender heart. Your task was to bring him on the path he's destined to take, like it or not."

"You are….you are a _sorcerer_?"

"Great Mother, send help to this place, it's direly needed! And this is to be the warlock born of legends! Yes, I am a sorcerer; I am what you are in every aspect, except that you are supposed to hold greater powers than I do. Although one shouldn't believe it, from what I've seen so far."

"But…you are….you were the head of Uther's Council."

"You may well say that I _was_, thanks to you and your idiotic interfering with my plans. By the way, how did the Prince react to the revealing of your magic?"

"He didn't make any fuss, if that's what you mean, in fact he must have known for some time, but…."

"Well, he deserved better from you for that; without you meddling with my plans Arthur would never have been dragged to Devil's Claw. How's he taking to his situation? And don't tell me that you didn't find out."

Merlin's head swam, and it was a very wild current that whirled it around. "He is devastated, but unharmed, at least physically. Lord Saltyre is taking care of him." While he was speaking, Merlin chastised himself for answering this man's questions as if he was reciting a lesson in school.

"Good" Ravenclaw said. "Malcolm is smarter than his brother. Always has been. So for the moment we can forget about our Prince and take care of you."

"Meaning what?" Merlin spat, now truly and genuinely enraged. And yet, for all his growing distrust of the Baron, the blinding, stunning jolt of energy caught the young warlock by surprise, forced him to his knees, unable even to scream.

Helplessly bound to the ground, Merlin watched the Baron approaching him, kneeling down by his side. He would have wanted to pull away when Ravenclaw touched his face and stroke his hair fondly. "Oh Emrys, Emrys, what a mess you have created. You killed Nimueh, the one who was destined to rebuild the Isle of the Blessed. You've saved Uther, again and again; by your clemency the deadliest enemy of our kind is still alive, even though the time for his son to bring about the Golden Age has long passed. You have jumbled everything. Where once was order, only chaos is left. Now it is for me and the others to patch together what remains of the original threads of destiny; to save what can be saved."

"_I don't understand. Please_….." Merlin thought he said it but he spoke only in is mind. It didn't matter, though. Ravenclaw heard him well enough.

"The bond between Arthur and his father _must _be broken before it is too late and the Prince becomes an even deadlier enemy of our kind than Uther ever was. Nimueh is gone; we are in need of another who can take the seat of the High Priestess. Nothing of this can be achieved without the Prince suffering. You have proved beyond all doubt that you will not let that happen."

Panic rose in Merlin's mind and he desperately tried to move. Immediately Ravenclaw increased the strength of his magical hold over him. "Lie still and this won't hurt a bit" he said. "I have to bring together the most improbable, the most impossible of all alliances, and I have nothing but Uther's own foolishness to aid me. I therefore need your help, and your help I will have, no matter what."

The younger warlock tensed when he felt something touch; then lift his body ever so lightly from the ground. Still he could not move at all.

"The Crystal will eventually enclose you completely" Ravenclaw said. "It will not kill you, I promise. But it will keep you out of mischief as well as give an indispensable support to my plans, so you better be proud."

"_Crystal? What __Crystal?_"

"The Crystal that has begun to grow underneath you; it's already covering your arms, see?"

And indeed, Merlin could now see the Crystal enclosing his feet and hands; when it reached his hips its growing slowed down.

With a soft smile, Ravenclaw stroked the younger warlock's cheek while he nestled the hunting knife from his belt. "I take that if you don't mind."

He shook his head at the despair in the other wizard's face while he waited for the Crystal to finish its task. "Shhhhh. Don't fret. It's all for the best, my young friend. After all it's not really your fault. We should never have allowed Gaius to become your guardian. He was meant to lead Uther on the path of a High King of Albion, the perfect ally of the Isle's power, but he always put his friendship to the King above his duty to us. We just can't allow you to do the same with Arthur. The time for such childish sentiments is over."

Ravenclaw smiled when he saw Merlin's eyelids flutter while his muscles slowly lost their tension. Step by step the young wizard surrendered to the Crystal. "It's soothing Emrys, isn't it? Sweet dreams, my boy. Dream of your life as it should have been, if Uther and Gaius had not been such a horrible disappointment. Dream of a happy, a fulfilled life, respected for what you are, and free, free….."

When the Crystal reached his throat, Merlin's eyes closed and a happy, contented smile came to his features. His breathing was even, his body restful. "Sleep well, my little wizard Prince" Ravenclaw murmured. "Dream of all the warmth and love you always craved."

Then the Crystal covered Merlin's head and face and suddenly the enclosed body shimmered in a brilliant, multi-coloured light.

When the light faded, all that was left on the ground was an intricate, beautiful gold necklace with a perfectly pure diamond pendant in its centre, flanked by two sapphires, two rubies and crowned by a crescent of onyx, as black and shimmering as a raven's wing.

"A necklace fit for a Princess" Ravenclaw said to himself while he scrutinized the jewel. "They say that Emrys' power can even melt a heart of stone. For the love of Camelot, I hope that's true!"

Together with the hunting knife the Baron hid the jewel safely in his pocket and rose to be on his way.


	10. For King and country

**10. For King and Country**

Uther Pendragon inhaled deeply, if trembling, for several times once he had left the balcony. Gods, it was done. He knew, he just knew, he'd fooled them all. They'd virtually gobbled the fairy tale up lock, stock and barrel.

This story of the Druids having captured his son really was the perfect solution for all his problems. First of all it would ensure that no damned sorcerer in Albion would ever impose on Arthur's weaknesses again. The vulnerability, the almost fragile streak in his character the son had revealed to his father had been a torment for the King, more than he cared to admit.

Together with his wrath at Arthur's betrayal this anguish had made for an eruptive blend of emotions. But during the hunting trip Uther had put two and two together. Arthur's insistence that he was in love with this serving girl. His fondness for this idiotic servant of his. His actions at the time when his father had once demanded a strangling tax from his people. Now he had knighted a bunch of commoners and finally he had negotiated peace with these meaningless, dirty Druid peasants.

It all belonged together.

Arthur Pendragon was his father's son, all right. But he was also his mother's child. Igraine had always had a very kind and tender heart. She had suffered with every person she knew to be miserable. Even Matilda, when the stupid girl had degraded herself, a royal Princess of Pendragon blood, with a humble liegeman.

Naturally these newly won insights could not mean that Arthur would go unpunished for what he had done; nor could they calm the father's fear that his son and heir was somewhat unreliable at times.

Only on his ride home it had occurred to the King that there might be a more constructive possibility to deal with this than robbing Arthur of his title.

Cedric, although his death was as severe a loss as the demise of a servant could possibly be, would be of service to his master one last time. His corpse was solemn prove for an attack on father and son; an attack that could be made into a perfect means to a purpose.

The Druids would never believe that the fake of Arthur's abduction had _not_ been made up by father and son intentionally, and in advance. To them, the Prince's peace offers would appear as a ruse that had brought them out in the open, to the executioner's axe. So much for a renewal of Arthur's appeasement policy.

At the same time, Uther was excused for letting his other prisoners go. No trials for High Treason, except the one for Ravenclaw, to satisfy the Branguards. So the King would lose his hostages, but Arthur wouldn't know that, would he. As far as his son was concerned, the whole lot would still be in his father's power. Would teach the sentimental boy a useful lesson in keeping his heart in check.

_And_this abduction story was the perfect excuse for _not_ making Becco Crown Prince. That way it would be so much easier to get rid of the lad later on. Surely, it would cost money to send him and his mother packing. Lots of money. So what. Camelot had always been a prosperous country, for all of Arthur's fretting about their present finances.

Uther made a mental note to go over his coffers tomorrow before he resumed his former trail of thoughts.

Naturally Becco would believe until the very last moment that the throne would come to him in the end. Arthur would not be found and finally everyone would assume that he had been murdered by his captors.

Doubtlessly Camelot would all the more fall over her own feet with joy and relief once her Crown Prince _would_ come back and Uther had every confidence in himself to find the perfect moment and decorum for this return.

Uther knew he had been gambling everything on this one, ferocious lie and now he had done it! Indeed, right now he was sure he could achieve anything.

Come to think of it, Arthur's untoward behaviour could at least be partly excused as a result of his so called friends' bad influence. With them out of the way, everything would be as it had been before between father and son. Surely the boy would chafe a bit at his spell in Devil's Claw, but he'd get over it. Arthur had always been able to shrug away any punishment his father had given him.

Uther walked down the corridor with a spring in his step, barely able to banish a happy smile from his face that wouldn't be very befitting in a grief-stricken father. For the first time since he had been forced to kneel to his own daughter the King felt totally, completely in control; the Lord and Liege of Camelot; sole master of the realm and everyone in it.

They had all been wrong, those people who had thought Uther Pendragon to be finished. He had never lost his nerve, not really. And they would see. Oh, yes, now they would see that they had struck off Arthur's old man too early.

The King felt so very good that he hardly succeeded in hiding his radiant mood from his sister who approached him with a sparkle of her own in her eyes, albeit it was a rather angry one.

"I've been looking for you Uther. I think you owe me an explanation. I was informed that you had written a warrant for Arthur's arrest and now I hear that your son has been taken by some rogues?"

"_You always were a nosy__, supercilious__ brat, even as a child_" Uther thought. "_Heaven __may __have mercy on my son should he ever fall into your hands_."

Of course, it wouldn't be politically wise to say that. "Yes, he has, before my men could reach us" Uther therefore answered. "Surely you understand that under these circumstances Becco's ascendance to the title of Crown Prince is not possible. It wouldn't look good in the eyes of the people."

Matilda's face fell. Various, violent emotions swept over her before she regained her usual self-restraint. With a trembling smile she pressed her hand on her heart. "So you had indeed planned to make my son your heir? I had assumed correctly?"

"Of course I had, dear sister. It's the least I could do after you had taken so much trouble to inform me of my son's treacherous behaviour." The King was all amiability now. He even bowed to kiss his sister's cold fingers. "Arthur was to be arrested and tried for High Treason; in a secure place. Surely you see that I could have him arrested and tried here where some hidden allies of him may have caused serious troubles."

"That much is obvious" Matilda stated. "But where is Arthur now?"

"I have no idea. But we should hear something of him soon enough. Doubtlessly those rascals will try to trade him off, demand some kind of ransom. He will either be killed by them or he will come back to our hands, to get what he deserves."

A cold shiver ran down his spine, ruining his good mood completely. Uther Pendragon was no superstitious man, but these words cost him. They came so very near to his father's worst nightmares, it was like walking over Arthur's grave. With an effort the King had to remind himself that his son was safe behind Devil's Claw's thick and sturdy walls, with no enemies anywhere near him, Druids, magicians or otherwise.

His sister frowned when she saw his demeanour change; for a second her naïve smile wavered but she got it back as expertly as a warrior would balance his blade before he struck. "This must all be so very hard for you, Uther. I know you loved your son so very much."

"Yes, dearest, naturally it is" the King said. With the former chill still lingering, he feigned his crestfallenness very convincingly. "Without you, I'd surely not be able to carry on, Matilda. Especially after you so graciously consented to your troops coming to my aid."

The King was distracted, though, as one of the prison guards approached him in some haste.

"Oh, please, Uther, don't mention it. If 1000 of our men can help to ensure a Pendragon's lawful rule over Camelot it's the least I can do" Matilda said, but her brother didn't pay much attention.

"For sure, my dear, that's very true. But now you must excuse me. I have some urgent business to attend to."

"Naturally, Uther. Will you join us for dinner? There is much to discuss."

"By all means, Matilda. I am looking forward to it already."

With a last polite bow the King took his leave of his sister who stared after him thoughtfully before she left.

"What is the matter?" Uther asked the guard curtly.

"My Lord, I have no idea how it could have happened, we had all exits secured. They still are safely locked; none of us can understand how he managed it."

"How who managed what? For the Gods' sake, man, spit it out."

"The Baron of Ravenclaw, Sire. He's gone. Escaped. Vanished into thin air."

Uther slumped down on the nearest window sill; fighting for his breath. This was a real blow. Six strong castles, dear Gods. Vast lands, almost 300 knights and twice as many soldiers at his disposal. Ravenclaw was one of the most powerful notables of the Kingdom. He had no sons or brothers, only an elderly wife. As long as he was securely under lock and key Uther had no need to fear his power, but now…

"What are you still standing here" the King growled. "Search the premises. For heaven's sake, turn every stone until you have found him."

"We've already done that, Your Majesty. There's no trace of him. Nowhere."

"Blast your stupidity, since when is he gone?"

The unfortunate guard swallowed painfully. "Since, since….."

"I'll have your head cut off for this, you hare-brained idiot. SINCE WHEN IS THE RASCAL GONE?"

"Since earlier this afternoon, Your Majesty. Must have happened shortly before your proclamation."

Uther covered his face with both hands briefly, a signature gesture he unwittingly shared with his son. Fleetingly he thought of Devil's Claw. Did Ravenclaw know about Arthur? What if Geoffrey had…. But no, the old man wouldn't dare.

"You are dismissed" Uther snapped at the desperate guard.

"My Lord?"

"I said, get lost, before I forget myself!"

The guard bowed and took to his heels. Uther didn't even see it. His thoughts were racing.

This was not the end of the world. Sooner or later Ravenclaw had to pop up somewhere. He needed money, he needed support. It might be a good idea to rattle him, though.

The King turned on his heel and went into his office. Only fifteen minutes later a messenger mounted his fastest horse for a ride to the nearest garrison with the warrant for the arrest of the Lady Ravenclaw.

Uther felt his mind and instincts rising to the challenge. He had felt that way in the days before he had finally conquered Camelot. His every nerve alert and tensed, his mind clear and focused. So very much alive.

In a way it was marvellous to feel like that again, after so many years. Once more he could not afford to make any mistakes. He had to go through this methodically, step by step.

He thought of notifying the Branguards but decided against it. One of the brothers was due back in Camelot Castle by tomorrow afternoon anyway. Ample time to tell him then.

For now the King had done everything he could about Ravenclaw. It was time to care about the others that presently populated his dungeons.

Barely an hour after he had called for the first prisoner, almost anyone had been released, with the polite excuses and apologies of a most gracious, even somewhat compunctious King. The noblemen among them did not have to leave without some nice and valuable gifts.

They all bowed deferentially to their King and when the Council Members bowed their way out, Uther spontaneously wondered how many of them really believed his story of a Druid abduction. Although experienced by many years of manipulation and political manoeuvres, the King also marvelled at their ability to float with the tide. All minutes or registries aside, only Arthur would know who had suggested or condoned what during his regency. How many of these friendly faces wished that their Prince would never come back to haunt them with this knowledge? How many wished him to come back, with his father's death in his heart?

Uther had to supress his sarcastic grin while he gave order to bring in the first bunch of the remaining prisoners.

However, this lot proved to be quite another cup of mead.

Somehow Gwaine had taken the lead of the group, his defiant face and straight shoulders setting the mood of the whole bunch. He met the King's gaze and held it. Uther was the one who couldn't stand this eventually. Pendragon let his gaze flicker over all of them. On Lancelot it paused briefly, in sudden recognition, before it wandered on.

The last one in the row was Leon.

Angrily the King turned to the guard soldiers who had brought the prisoners in. "Why is Sir Leon with these people. He has nothing to do with them!"

Before the soldier could answer, Leon spoke for himself. "I beg Your Majesty's pardon, but you are wrong. I have everything to do with these men."

"As a trusted member of Camelot's ancient nobility you have nothing in common with them. Pray stay out of this."

"Do as he says, Leon" Gwaine stepped in. "He's right. This is between us and him."

He grinned at Uther's obvious anger and shook his head. "No need to say it, King Uther. You will not honour Arthur's word or his promises, although he has made them to us with all the sincerity of his heart. Of that, your son has quite a lot. As we are still alive, I'd guess you are going to disgrace your own son by banishing us from the realm, on pain of death."

"My son's honour is no concern of yours" Uther replied; visibly fighting for self-control.

"You are not very concerned about it either, I dare say." Gwaine turned his back to Uther and cocked his head in direction of the exit. "I for my part do not want to stay here anyhow. Without Arthur and Merlin, this place is nothing but a common dirt hole like all the other nobility kennels I have seen."

He took his jacket, threw it over his shoulder and without so much as looking at the King of Camelot, casually strolled out. Percival followed him immediately. Lancelot hesitated for a moment. As did Elyan. "My sister, My Lord" Guinivere's brother said. "What about her?"

"What on earth have I to do with your sister?" the King said.

"His sister is Guinivere, Sire." Leon spoke up now. "The mother of your unborn grandchild. Prince Arthur's child."

Damn that physician. Damn Saltyre. Damn them all. Was there anyone left in Camelot who did not know about this bloody child?

Uther wanted to fly into a rage; he wanted to forbid once and for all every mentioning of the wretched woman and her unborn bastard brat. But somehow he couldn't.

Leon was more than just one of the knights under Arthur's command. He had always been close to father and son; and he had led the knights' opposition against Morgana. That much Uther had gathered from what Arthur had told his father during the long months of his illness. Besides, the knights' final refuse to submit to his daughter he had been watching from his cell with his own eyes. Leon's "Long live the King" still rang in Uther's ears.

"Sir Leon, please stay out of this, I…."

"Your Majesty, I must ask you to answer _Sir_ Elyan's question" Leon insisted. "The Lady in question is entitled to our respect and allegiance, by her own merits and as the future Queen of Camelot."

For a long moment it was very quiet in the spacious hall.

Uther's hand closed around the hilt of his sword. There were limits to what he was willing to take, even from someone like Leon.

Elyan furtively touched Leon's arm, to warn him of the danger.

Sir Leon, however, kept his gaze on his King's face, steadily, very calm – neither to be intimidated nor pressed into something he could not reconcile with his conscience. He had looked at Morgana that way. With the same expression he had faced her execution squad.

Slowly, the King's hand relaxed.

"If you are her brother, she's your responsibility anyway" he snapped at Elyan. "And I dare say you should have taken better care of her and her honour. You all have until tonight's closing of the gates to leave Camelot, never to return. Should it come to my ears that anyone of you, man or woman, gives himself any airs in foreign countries, as a knight or a Lady of Camelot, I will have my henchmen on your trail and they _will_ find you, you can rely on that. Now get out. The woman will join you soon enough."

Apparently bored and disgusted, Uther turned away from them, missing Lancelot's attempt to come for him before Elyan stopped his friend.

"Sir Leon, a word with you" Uther said.

"Forgive me, Sire, but there's no time for that" Leon replied. "As we are to leave tonight, I must resign my commission at once. Please, let me have your confirmation here and now."

The others, already on their way out, turned back towards the two nobles. Even Gwaine.

Uther didn't believe his ears. "This has gone far enough, Sir Leon. You are dismissed. We'll talk again in the morning."

"Sire, with all due respect, I must insist that you accept my resignation. I can only serve a Liege who has my loyalty and my respect. I can no longer stay in your service, as my allegiance is no longer with you."

The others stood stupefied by what was going on.

"You realize" Uther said, very quietly, "that it's not only your commission you're resigning but your fiefdom, too. Your whole existence, your title, your lands – everything you have."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm fully aware of that."

"You, a high born knight of the realm, degrade yourself for some Tom, Dick and Harry? For a bunch of commoners?" Uther still couldn't believe this.

"No, Sire" Leon replied firmly. "For your son!"

Uther paled. With a visible effort, he straightened himself. "What does that mean?"

"We all could hear your proclamation, Sire, but we also know that you yourself had planned to charge your son with High Treason. Whatever has really happened to His Royal Highness; this, as well as your behaviour towards the mother of his child, makes it impossible for me to stay in your service."

"Then it will be best if you indeed left Camelot with your new friends, as you seem no longer capable of appreciating the old ones."

Silently, Leon nodded. He bowed his good-bye to his former master and went out; unwittingly taking the lead of the group that fell into step behind him. This time, Gwaine waited until the others had went past him before he joined his friends.

"They breed a rare kind of nobility here" he whispered to Percival, who shook his head.

"Crying shame it doesn't affect everyone" was Percy's derisive answer.

Uther sat down after they had finally left and buried his face in his hands for a moment. The shame and humiliation of this scene burned like acid. Suddenly today's earlier achievements weren't so convincing anymore.

Then he inhaled deeply. There was nothing for it. Five had been dealt with. Three more to go. And one of them a woman.

As it came, Guinivere made things easy for him. She blatantly denied that the child she was carrying was Arthur's; she confessed, unasked, that she had been acquainted with many men besides the Crown Prince and that the child she was going to have was hers and hers alone. No Pendragon would have a claim on her son or daughter, and Camelot could go to hell for all she cared.

Banishing her from the realm was no problem at all after that.

She left Arthur's father with her chin lifted and a very brave face. How she looked or what she did when she joined her brother was no concern of Uther's anymore.

It was beyond the King of Camelot that this scene had been even more shameful for him than Sir Leon's resignation. Uther felt much better already since he had kicked that trollop out of his realm – and his son's life – for good.

Pendragon felt even more satisfied when he had dealt with Geoffrey, as his old clerk had said almost nothing. "Yes, Sire. No, Sire. As you wish, Sire" and finally "Good Bye, Sire."

After Geoffrey had shuffled out, Uther faced the last one of the suspects he had had thrown into the dungeons, once more confident that he would get his way, no matter what.

"Gaius! There you are."

"I am where Your Majesty has put me."

"Yes, well. Where else should you have been."

"Indeed, My Lord. That applies to all of us."

Irritated, Uther knotted his brows in an angry frown. "Don't speak in riddles, physician. It's far too late at night for that."

"It's far too late for many things, Your Majesty."

"Damn you, Gaius. What are you talking about?"

"Where is your son, My Lord? In the Druids' claws or in the Devil's?"

"You've heard my proclamation, I know you did."

"I heard your words all right. And I think I got the message as well as anybody else. But now the crowd is gone and we are alone. Where is Camelot's Crown Prince?"

"You've heard what I…."

"Uther Pendragon, I've always known when you were about to do something foolish and it is the one big shame of my life that I always let you get away with your idiotic schemes. But not this time. I am only a humble healer. I can go any time. You are the King. No matter what you do, you have to stay and live with your mistakes. As your friend, I ask you again – what have you done to your son?"

"Hell, Gaius, he'll live, a little time off and a small lesson in discipline and humility won't kill my son. He's securely under lock and key in Devil's Claw. Now are you content."

"It's not me who has to be content with being kept in this disgraceful dirt-hole."

"You're trying my patience, Gaius. Just in case you didn't notice."

"And my boy? What have you done to Merlin? His name was on the warrants' list."

Uther hesitated. He was sure that Gaius had known all about his ward being a sorcerer. He also knew how much the old healer loved the darn urchin.

It had been a long day and it wasn't over yet. Cedric was dead, Leon had left, Geoffrey hadn't even looked at him and as for Arthur…. Idiotically, absurdly Uther felt the irresistible urge to go to his son and make sure that he was all right, safely tucked in his bed. He had done so occasionally when Arthur had been a kid. When his heir had turned 11, the traditional age for his first real sword, the father's visits had ended. Now the King felt his foolish wish even stronger because it was impossible.

No, he would not have another row with another friend. Not today.

"I've sent him home for good. He obviously had a bad influence on my son."

"Merlin shares your son's fate. That much is certain, and in more ways than you can imagine. He'd never leave Arthur willingly, especially not while your son is held captive."

"Well, he did not. I had to coerce him into it but finally he left, not without pocketing Arthur's valuable hunting knife, the one Igraine has left to him. Your rascal of a ward might as well be content with that, it's worth a fortune."

Gaius looked at his King, his life-long friend, and somehow it seemed as if he saw him for the first time.

"I trust one day it will be a King's ransom" he said. "I wish Your Majesty a very good night. Camelot is such a spacious castle; it can be somewhat eerie at night for a man who is alone."

"Gaius? Gaius! Come back. Come back at once. That's an order!"

Oh to hell with it. The old man's mood would rise with the sun, it always did. Better wait until then.

Wearily Uther let his head fall and tried to ease the strain on his neck muscles. He felt a considerable headache approaching and sighed. No Merlin to call for, to bring him one of Gaius' potions. And it would be humiliatingly useless to call for the Court Physician himself, that much was certain.

The King indulged himself in a rare moment of complete, luxurious self-pity. All these hard decisions he had to make and nobody at his side to understand and support him. Not even his children….

Uther stopped this trail of thoughts immediately. Behind every thought of his daughter lurked the memory of his darkest moments, and the long, mortifying nights and days of weakness and despair that had followed them.

Something like that would never happen to him again. He would not allow it.

Surely Arthur would understand the need for that in the end. By now he and his guards must already have reached Devil's Claw. Maybe he could write to his son, explain a few things; pave the way towards reconciliation, so to speak. Or perhaps he should pay him a visit, in perfect secrecy of course. Would make things a bit easier for the boy, wouldn't it.

Yes, maybe that was a good idea. He would give it more thought later on. Right now he had to weather out a family dinner.

With one last sigh, Uther went to his private chambers, to face the inevitable ordeal of dressing up for the occasion without Cedric's help.

Tonight's guests of honour, however, had problems to discuss in this very moment that went way beyond the quality of service in Camelot.

"I don't believe a word of this Druid story" Matilda said while she tried to decide on a shawl that would go with her ivory dress. "My brother has made that up. He wants our troops, not you or me. As Arthur would have opposed this mad idea of a second purge, he has been stowed away for the time being."

"By his own father?" Becco asked incredulously.

"My dear cuddly bear, you of all people should know what a father can do to his son."

As this was disturbingly true, Hortensius shrugged, hiding his embarrassment behind a grumpy face.

"So what are we going to do, mother? If that's true, he'll never make me Crown Prince."

"We don't need him to make you anything. Not anymore. Our troops will do that for him. As soon as our men have settled down, I will see to it that your path is cleared." She rummaged through her things, mumbling to herself "no that won't do. And this one looks so awfully cheap."

"What do you mean, clear my path?"

Matilda's shoulders fell in an age-old gesture of frustration. "You know what I had in my mind for my dear brother, don't you. Naturally it can't happen quickly, that would be too obvious. Something that takes a few months, some slowly but inevitably progressing illness of the stomach. Or of the heart. Yes, this is it."

"Have you decided on a shawl for your dress?"

"No love, on a potion for my brother."

"Mother, I wish you wouldn't be that….casual about these things."

"Why ever not, my pet? It's what we had in mind all along."

"So what do you want me to do in the meantime?"

"What you are best at. Leading our army. But not too successfully, mind. Every single one of our men is very precious when the time comes. I'd say you lead them through the bushes, searching for Arthur. Naturally you will not find him, Uther isn't that stupid. But it will keep our troops out of mischief. We can do that for some time before he grows suspicious. Then it will be soon enough to slaughter some Druids. After one or two impressive looking victories, King Uther's already declining health will fail him completely and he will die a martyr to his cause. As Arthur will be conveniently absent, you will be left in charge. It's all very simple really."

"And as nobody will know that and where Arthur is still alive, we can kill him as soon as we have found him after his father's death" Hortensius said eagerly. For some inexplicable reason he detested his Cousin. Maybe it was this affection and reverence Arthur met everywhere in Camelot. Nobody had ever troubled himself with liking or respecting Becco like that. Nobody except his mother, of course.

"No, Horty, I absolutely, categorically refuse to condone that."

The Comte was flabbergasted at his mother's sudden outburst. With wide eyes he stared at her angry face. "Why ever not, Maman? It's a good opportunity."

"Because I say so, understood?" Matilda said with vigour. "Besides, if you could kill him in his hideaway with nobody being the wiser, we can as easily take him alive without anyone knowing it. Once in the Auvergne, he'd make a valuable hostage if something should go wrong."

"Your plans never do" Hortensius said fondly.

Matilda danced a few steps in front of him, displaying the shawl she had been looking for. "There. How do I look?"

"Like a Queen. Whoever I shall marry one day, she must look like you. You are so very beautiful, Maman."

Matilda knew he meant it, although it wasn't true. Her son wasn't very objective on that score. But she loved him all the more for that.

"We'll find you a Queen that you can be proud of" she said. "Someone who'll appreciate you as you deserve. Together we will give the Pendragon dynasty the chance for a new beginning."

Hortensius returned her happy mood with an affectionate smile of his own. Who cared about Arthur anyhow? If his Maman wanted him alive, she'd get him. It was _that_ simple.

He offered his mother his arm and the two of them went to join Uther for dinner in perfect harmony.


	11. In the Devil's Claws

**11. In the Devil's Claws**

Other than his father had thought, Arthur had not reached his destination as smoothly and timely as planned. A full day after Uther had released his prisoners, Bodmin and _his_ captive were still on their way, with at least two full days more to go.

In a surprise decision, the elder Branguard had chosen a very rough and pathless terrain for a more covert approach to Devil's Claw. The cart's wheels had broken twice. The second accident proved to be fatal for the vehicle. It also proved to be fatal for Bodmin's already troubled time table.

"Angus, I still think that you should be the one who reports back to Uther" Malcolm said for the umpteenth time. "After all you are now the Chairman of the Council."

"But the King put me in charge of his son; we cannot simply ignore his orders."

Saltyre took a deep breath to launch another attempt at his brother's stubbornness, but Angus cut him short. "This is not open to debate, Malcolm. You are going to be late for the first meeting of the new Council as it is. You should ride off now."

This had not been a suggestion but an order and the younger Branguard resigned to his fate. Obediently he bowed to the Earl and took up his horse's bridle. However, one last try he felt obliged to make. "Angus, for heaven's sake, keep the reins a bit slacker on Arthur. I beg you. It's monstrous to keep him that way."

"If it hadn't been for that accursed cart we would have reached Devil's Claw in time" Angus replied with a pinched mouth. "Until we are safely behind the castle's walls I see no other way but to keep him bound and gagged. I don't like it any more than you do, but there is no other way to prevent his escape."

"Trust me, there's no reason for that. At least offer him one chance to give his parole."

"The King's orders forbid that explicitly. Blast it; you've seen the bloody epistle."

"There's always more than one way to go about things, Angus. No matter what he put in that order, Uther will blame _you_ for his son's torment in the end."

"I am sick of listening to your presumptuous talk. I am the elder brother; I am your Liege and the head of the family. You'll do as I say and you'll do it now!"

Bodmin's face was purple now and Malcolm bit his tongue, unless he'd get his brother even more upset. Angus wasn't cut out for these things; in any situation which called for a more flexible approach than just following orders, the Earl was clearly out of his depth.

"A good day to you, My Lord Earl" Saltyre said with a last bow to his brother before he led his horse towards the way they'd come.

"Malcolm, wait." If there was one thing Bodmin could not stand it was letting a quarrel with his brother go unsolved. As easily as he flew into a rage and pulled the ranks on Malcolm, as quickly he tried to make amends. "I'll give it a try, I promise. But bringing him into Devil's Claw as King Uther ordered must be my first priority."

"Thanks, big brother" Malcolm smiled, and Bodmin was visibly relieved.

On his way out of the makeshift camp Saltyre halted briefly at Arthur's side.

"This is good bye then" the Prince said. "You're going back to Camelot." Neither his voice nor his face betrayed his feelings; yet Saltyre could easily guess what they might be.

"I'll try to find out what has happened to her and the others, I give you my word. But I want you to do me a favour in return. Do not provoke my brother; he's completely on edge already. Your father has put him in an impossible position."

"That makes two of us" Arthur stated dryly.

Malcolm rolled his eyes to the sky in silent exasperation and mounted his horse. "Please, Sire. Be reasonable. This calls for cleverness, not for audacity. My brother has as much a choice in this as you have: None at all."

Arthur watched him vanish between the trees and let his head sink back against the tree trunk he was leaning at. For all his brave and fearless attitude, these last two days had taught him what he was losing with this departure. With frequent reference to Uther's orders Bodmin had spared the King's son nothing. Had it not been for Malcolm's repeated interventions on the prisoner's behalf, the journey would have been even more of a nightmare than it already was.

Admittedly Arthur had not been an exemplary prisoner for the increasingly vexed Earl. He had no idea what his father's plans were in the long run; trial and execution, a prolonged captivity or just disinheritance and banishment – but right now Uther clearly wanted to break his son's resistance. Yet for once the King should not have his way. Albeit Arthur knew he had no chance to escape, not while his friends were held hostage, he was hell bent on denying his father the satisfaction of seeing his son on his knees.

As it was, the Prince had fought his gaoler every step of the way and although this had earned him an even rougher treatment, he had every intention to keep this up.

As the Earl now approached him, Arthur straightened his back as best he could and met his captor's angry stare with an arrogant smile. "Lunch break is over? Or why are you stalking around, stiff-legged as a rheumatic horse?"

Bodmin, unsure of himself and therefore touchy, paled with rage, much more than the essentially childish insult deserved. He gave his men a signal and Arthur had to stifle a yelp of pain when they hauled him to his feet.

"Tie him up. You know the routine."

Arthur couldn't avert a sharp gasp while his arms were untied, only to be forcibly twisted behind his back and bound again. He remembered the alleviation he had felt when they had first freed his legs and wrists to let him eat after the long hours he had spent in the cart, unable to move at all.

The disappointment of his hands being once more lashed together in front of his body had been a bitter one, and hard to hide. The awkwardness of being forced to eat with tied hands had quickly been topped by Bodmin's refusal to untie him even when he had to relieve himself.

It had been Malcolm who had noticed Arthur's mortal shame at being forced to ask for help and the younger Branguard, behind his brother's back, had finally loosened the ropes enough to let him do it on his own.

"Wait" Bodmin suddenly said. With a hard grip he took Arthur's wrists that the restraints had cut open. They were bleeding and obviously on the brink of festering; the sight was abominable enough to make Branguard frown. Doubts as to what the King really wanted to achieve with this clouded his so far single-minded determination. Malcolm could have been right after all; maybe Uther wouldn't like this sight very much. Now that Bodmin gave his captive a closer look he found that most probably neither these cuts nor the other bruises nor his son's whole dishevelled, battered looks would be to the King's liking.

"What's the matter, My Lord Earl? Suddenly so squeamish? Can't you stand the sight of blood?"

Once more Bodmin chose to ignore the jibe. "Hold him" he ordered; before he walked towards the broken cart.

Arthur winced when the guards tightened their grip; a soldier's arm circled his neck; as the chain-mail slid over his skin it felt like a snake's touch.

All of a sudden Pendragon struggled violently under the guards' hands. "Let go of me."

Feeling his sudden resistance the guards' grasp became even stronger instead. He rose up against their pull and, to his own surprise, managed to break free. Without thinking Arthur jammed his elbow into one of the faces that surrounded him, breaking at least one bone with a sickening sound. A second guard went down after a fist had punched his solar-plexus with vicious force, while a well placed kick on his knee-cap disabled a third attacker almost at the same time.

After that Arthur was in the centre of a ferocious struggle he had no chance to win. Bodmin and his brother had not brought that big an escort with them for nothing.

It cost them a few more broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a broken jaw but finally they had pinned the Prince, panting, exhausted and with a few fresh bruises that hurt like hell, but otherwise unharmed, face-down to the ground.

"So much for my brother's opinion that you'd never try to run as long as your father has got your so called friends" Bodmin's cold, derisive voice said somewhere in his back.

Arthur shook his head desperately, writhing with revulsion. He himself had no idea why he had started the fight in the first place, he had not even thought about escape, only about the impossibility of enduring these filthy, humiliating hands on his body just a moment longer. How to explain that to a man like Branguard? "Go and peg out in some mud-hole like the dirty pig you are!"

"I said, keep him still!"

A repellent smell hit Arthur's nostrils and an instant later a rag dripping with the stinking liquid was pressed over his mouth and nose. While Branguard held his head in an iron grip, the Prince screamed under the rag in helpless wrath until the world went black around him.

Bodmin held the rag in place a bit longer; to make sure that his prisoner had really lost consciousness. "Let go of him and step back."

He rolled Arthur's limp body on his back and felt for his pulse. "Like father like son, as stubborn as mules, the whole damned bunch."

Roughly Bodmin forced the young man's mouth open and poured a dose of another liquid down Arthur's throat. "There. This should give us some peace" he said while he rose.

"What's that Your Grace?" on of his knights asked and the silent "_why didn't you do that earlier?_" was impossible to miss.

"The Papaver's juice can't be used too often" the Earl answered the unspoken question. "The stuff is dangerous."

The others looked at him and at the unconscious prisoner with some awe until he lost his patience. "Close your mouths you imbeciles, it has nothing to do with witchcraft. You can buy the stuff at every decent herb peddler's in the markets."

He stowed the bottles away safely and turned to his horse. "Throw him over a saddle and cover him with a blanket. Let's get moving; we still have a long way ahead of us."

Moaning and softly cursing under their breath the soldiers followed their orders. So they would have to wait until they made camp for the night before they could tend to their injured and to their own needs. Nothing of this did anything to heighten Arthur's popularity with them.

It was deep in the night when the Prince finally came to. His tongue felt as if he had eaten a rabbit's fur, his stomach fluttered and his head was swimming; he had no idea where he was. He tried to get up, but a length of chain that tethered his waist to something solid behind the wall of canvas in his back stopped him short. For a minute he struggled against the restraint, until a bout of sickness forced him to lie still.

"If I were you I wouldn't move too fast" someone said.

"What happened?"

"I had to knock you out. I could hardly use a club; you maybe thick-headed but that doesn't necessarily mean that your skull is, too."

The memories came with Bodmin's voice and reflexively Arthur tried to rise again, only to be pushed back to the ground. "You stay exactly where you are. Not even you are stronger than this chain, believe me."

Knowing that for once he was in no condition to put up a fight, Arthur did as he was told. He even took the canteen that was given to him without objections, albeit he did not open it.

"It's only water, nothing to be afraid of" Bodmin said, obviously enjoying the fact that this time he was the one with the funny remarks.

Pendragon gulped down the water greedily until the awful taste and feeling in his mouth were gone.

"Hungry?"

"No!"

"No, of course not" Bodmin said derisively. "And if you were, you wouldn't tell me."

"_Right now I would__,_ _if only to have a few minutes more like this_" Arthur thought. He did not delude himself about what would come next. "Have you run out of ropes and gags or to what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?"

"After what you pulled off yesterday I will surely not give you another opportunity to raise hell. So you'd better enjoy this while you can."

"Why the sudden change of heart? Who has died and made you an angel of the oppressed?"

"Once in Devil's Claw we will be stuck with each other, maybe for a very long time. I beg Your Highness to finally realize that these are your father's orders, not my idea of a decent treatment."

"And here I was, thinking all the time that Your Grace was enjoying yourself so very much."

"A last word of advice, Prince Arthur: You will have noticed that your injuries have been tended to and that so far I have spared you the former restraints. But make one wrong sound or move and I'll have my men put you in irons at once, and for the remainder of the journey."

"I had expected nothing less from your hospitality, My Lord. Now get lost."

"Your Highness!" Bodmin bowed with gritted teeth and left his own tent as if he had been kicked out of it. This night he would spend with his men; at least that was better than having one row after another with his wilful, most obstinate prisoner.

Malcolm had been right in another thing as well. Uther was not as young as he once had been. If Arthur should ever succeed his father, his memories of this captivity might well become the Branguards' nemesis.

The Earl spent a sleepless night, tossing around in the fruitless search for a safe passage between Scylla and Charybdis. More than everything he wished he'd accepted Malcolm's offer to take over guardianship of the prisoner. Somehow the snake-pit of Camelot's Crown Council seemed so much more comfy than the perspective of arousing Arthur Pendragon's disfavour any more than he already had.

In the first light of dawn he had yet to find a solution for his predicament.

Not that he had had any real choice in the matter. Uther wouldn't have accepted a 'No' for an answer, he never did. And yet the Earl of Bodmin thought that, if he were the tiniest bit shrewder in such things, this chalice of bitter wine would have gone to somebody else. And the Ravenclaw fortune might be damned; at least that's what he thought in these miserable minutes between night and morning.

With a helpless sigh he finally decided to scrape by as things developed and hope for the best. Maybe time would help. The longer his young prisoner was totally isolated in Devil's Claw, the more amenable he might become. Bodmin would just have to keep up a very close guard without as much as laying a finger on the King's wayward son.

"Great" he muttered to himself. "Absolutely shiny. Why do I never think things through thoroughly _before_ I dash off head over heels?"

When they were ready to break camp he made one last appeal to his captive's common sense. He even decided to go against Uther's orders.

"If Your Highness were willing to give me your word not to defy your father's instructions and my authority any further, I'd be willing to accept your parole."

"As much as I commiserate with Your Grace's unfortunate deficiency, you do not hold authority over me at all. You've thanked His Majesty for the honour bestowed on you in becoming the gaoler of the Crown Prince; let this honour be its own reward."

Branguard turned on his heel and did his best to put some distance between him and the Prince, unless he'd do something entirely foolish and unforgivable. "_My son is at __**my**__ mercy and pleasure, not at yours. Forget that, even for a moment, and it will cost you your head. And some other parts of your miserable body. Understood?_" Uther's parting words were still very present in Banguard's mind.

"Orders, Your Grace?" Bodmin's Head Knight stood expectantly at his master's side.

"For the Gods' sake, I am surrounded by idiots" Angus roared. "Can you do _nothing_ on your own? You've heard him; tie him up again and pull a hood over his head. The sooner we reach the bloody castle the better it will be."

The mortified knight did as he was told, his jaws clenched in barely suppressed anger.

Arthur mustered all his self-restraint and offered no resistance. This man was not the enemy. However he noticed that the ropes lashed his elbows together behind his back, not his injured wrists. "I'm sorry" he whispered. "I didn't want him to take it out on you."

"Forgive me, Sire, but if you could make it possible not to behave like a complete dunderhead at least sometimes, this might be an easier trip for all of us!"

Arthur had no chance to reply anything before he was once more gagged and forced to mount with the promised bag over his head. Breathing seemed almost impossible and for a while the struggle for air was preeminent in his mind. But even so the 'dunderhead' brought back most unwelcome thoughts which he so far had squelched as best he could, as he had no chance to learn anything about his friends' fate. His worries about his love and their child were more than he could stand. After a while he was almost grateful for the bag covering his face and eyes.

Some torturous hours later they finally reached their destination. But Bodmin's considerable relief proved to be short lived. For all his most pompous declarations and citations from the King's orders, the castle's garrison denied access, and brusquely so.

A moment later Arthur inhaled deeply, gratefully when his face and mouth were freed.

"Would Your Highness please confirm that I am speaking the truth, or these imbeciles will let us wait here until the moon gets blue from cold" Bodmin said abashedly.

For once not in the mood for any derisive repartee, the Prince just nodded. "It's true, Sir Gryffyd" he shouted as loud as his parched throat would let him. "This stronghold is now part of the Bodmin liege; Baron Ravenclaw no longer holds any authority here. His Grace is bringing me in as the King's prisoner!"

"You've had your confirmation" Bodmin yelled, inwardly thanking all Gods whose names he remembered for Arthur's cooperation. Yet again, he was in for a disappointment.

"I have nothing of the kind, Your Grace" Gryffyd replied. "The Prince's word is null and void as long as his hands are tied and he has your swords and archers in his back. Untie him and send him to me. If he confirms your words again, I will gladly greet you as my new liege and the Prince as my prisoner."

"Do as he says" Arthur said quietly as he saw Bodmin hesitate. "You've nothing to lose. Gryffyd is as loyal and dutiful as they come; and he has a garrison of five against your 25 knights and soldiers."

With a visible effort Branguard came to a decision. He cut through the Prince's restraints and handed Arthur the bridles as well as a set of parchments. "Show the imbecile your father's seal while you are at it. Get it over with!"

Slowly Arthur rode towards the narrow but deep ravine that separated the castle's only entrance from the forecourt. He had no intention of making anyone nervous by rash actions.

Only when he reached the ravine's edge without the Bodmin and Saltyre guards making any threatening move, the drawbridge was lowered while five men with crossbows aimed more pitiably than impressively at the much larger group outside.

Arthur flinched when the gates were shut tight again and boarded up as soon as he had reached the court yard. The clinking of the chains told him that the drawbridge was once more pulled up, effectively cutting Bodmin's men off. For a moment he wished with all his heart that he could just accept the friendly gesture; order Gryffyd and his men to fight Branguard. However, it could not be. Tiredly Arthur dismounted and faced the old knight who stood in attention, behind him his two elderly clerks and a handful of servants.

"Welcome in Devil's Claw, Your Royal Highness."

"This is no use Sir Gryffyd, the Earl is telling the truth. I _am_ the King's prisoner and he has order to relieve you of your command here. You might as well let him in before anyone gets hurt."

"I've always known old Angus to be pig-headed but not for a brutal swine."

The Prince darted around at the sound of this voice, only to stare directly into Ravenclaw's amused eyes. "You look horrible, Arthur" the Baron said. "But I agree with Sir Gryffyd. Welcome in Devil's Claw anyways."

Only now Arthur saw the dense rows of men behind the Baron. Directly at Ravenclaw's side another man stood, grinning. "_Algernon_?" Pendragon said disbelievingly when he recognized the leader of the Druid tribes he had been negotiating with last winter.

"I've told you the Druids would not forget what you've done for us" Algernon said. "And your father's orders are worth a sow's fart to us."


	12. Foxes, rabbits and a jackal

**12. Foxes, rabbits and a jackal**

"What are you doing here?" Arthur did not trust his eyes; surely this was a fidget of his imagination.

Ravenclaw grinned while he bowed in the elegant, nonchalant way that was entirely his. "I was under the impression that Your Highness could do with some help."

"That's what _I_ thought about _you_. Shouldn't you be in the King's dungeons?"

"I did not fancy a longer stay after the King had charged me with High Treason. It was annoying, though. While I had to dismiss myself from the King's service, your father set the others free on his own accord."

"What do you mean, set the others free?" This couldn't be true; this _had_ to be wishful thinking.

"My most noble fellow Council members, the courtiers that had been arrested – the whole damned crème de la crème of Camelot are once more roaming the country side with their dopey faces, doubtlessly celebrating my downfall."

After a sly look at Arthur's barely hidden nervousness, the Baron's smile broadened. "But I don't think it was fear for _their_ tender necks that made you stoop to Angus Dickhead as tamely as a lamb. As for the bunch of commoners you have made knights of the worm-eaten table and young Lady Guinivere - Uther has banished them, but otherwise they're perfectly fine. Gaius is with them, for some reason he's jolly well fed up with your father."

The Prince's gaze flew towards the castle's entrance before the Baron had finished speaking.

"Forget about the stupid boar, Arthur. He has no longer a hold over you" Algernon said, his ageless, fox-like face showing much sympathy under its usual mask of mild irony and worldly wisdom.

Right on cue, Bodmin started to yell impatiently outside, demanding an immediate answer to his claim.

"You know, Arthur, I have a squadron here, they met us only last night. Friend Angus did me such a favour when he slowed himself down that much. What say you, we could invite My Lord Earl to dinner?"

Only now the Prince was willing to believe that Ravenclaw had told him the truth; that this ordeal was really over. "Your Lordship is reading my mind" he agreed wholeheartedly.

"It's always a pleasure to serve the Prince, Sire."

Two minutes later a much relieved Bodmin saw Sir Gryffyd appear on the castle walls. "I beg Your Grace's pardon, but I had to make sure that you're speaking the truth" the old knight shouted. "You are most welcome, My Lord Earl."

With a triumphant grin, Branguard passed the drawbridge and the gates until he and all his men reached the castle's main yard. His nervousness returned only when his gaze flickered over the square in vain. Arthur was standing in a corner out of sight, together with Gryffyd and Algernon. As was their habit, the Druids had withdrawn from the place of the upcoming fight.

"Where's the prisoner?" Bodmin demanded to know.

"His Royal Highness is otherwise occupied" Ravenclaw said while he stepped out of the arcade's shadow. "This is between you and me now, Angus."

Outnumbered more than two to one and taken by complete surprise, Bodmin and his men stood no chance.

Finally, Bodmin and Ravenclaw circled each other, swords drawn and ready. On both sides the others ceased fighting now as the Bodmin and the Saltyre guards surrendered, giving the two main opponents the room.

It was Bodmin who opened the clash with a vicious cut that aimed at Ravenclaw's heart. The Baron evaded the sharp point, if barely, and blocked the other's blade with his own sword. Hitting and parrying they danced around each other without one of them gaining an advantage. Until Branguard suddenly slipped and fell to his knees. Roaring triumphantly, Ravenclaw went in for the kill.

Bodmin seemed to lower his head in silent acceptance, but suddenly his left hand came up and hurled something at Ravenclaw's face.

The Baron screamed in anger when the load of dust and grit hit his eyes and blinded him. In this same instant, Branguard passed his sword from his right into his left hand; and with one swift turn of his arm the blade came up and hit Ravenclaw's belly.

Bodmin put all his strength behind the momentum of his weapon, but somehow the blade was stuck. Stuck by a third blade's blockage. Enraged the Earl jumped to his feet and kicked at Ravenclaw's groin, effectively hurling his opponent out of the way.

Heavily panting, Branguard looked at the Crown Prince's determined face. For a moment the heat of battle, his wrath and fear ousted everything else. "We've got that appointment from the very beginning, my boy" Bodmin growled, before he struck.

Arthur said nothing. But every blow and every swing of his blade brought a part of the humiliation and the bitter anguish this man had given him back to Pendragon's mind, spurring him, driving him forward.

Bodmin, many years older, out of exercise and a shrewd rather than a gifted swordsman, had nothing to set against this cold, single-minded determination.

Finally a last set of intricately intertwined blows took his sword out of Bodmin's hand and he slipped again; this time it had nothing to do with deliberation.

His eyes wide and terrified, Branguard lay on his back while the point of Arthur's blade pressed into his throat.

For a very long moment, they seemed to be all alone in the court yard.

Every instinct in Arthur called for his weapon to press home, to cut through this neck, to wash off his disgrace with blood, like he had been taught since childhood. And yet something prevented his wrist from making the final push and twist that would take Bodmin's life.

"Get up" he finally hissed. "Once we are finished with you, you can crawl back to King Uther on your hands and knees and tell him that he has counted me out too early!"

Gryffyd closed his eyes in silent gratitude, for Arthur's sakeas much as for all their sakes. Ravenclaw, his hand on the superficial cut in his belly, smiled in a most gratified manner at the Prince's last words.

"He's everything we'd hoped he'd be" Algernon said when they both watched Arthur vanishing inside the castle with Sir Gryffyd, while the old knight's and Ravenclaw's men made sure that the devastated Earl and his escort found their way into the castle's vaults and dungeons.

"And yet he has far to go before this is over" the Baron replied softly.

"You still do not want to tell me what you've seen of the future?"

"No!"

"As you wish, High Master. It's not for a simple Druid to question the likes of you."

"Algernon, if you tell Arthur anything…."

"I won't. My responsibility is my people's future. You've swindled your way into the magic-blinds' precious nobility; I gladly leave their Royalty to you."

"I have been a Prince of the Blessed Isle long before I became a Baron of Camelot."

Algernon grinned "And how lucky you've been that nobody ever found out."

"It's in the Druids' best interest too if Arthur someday reinstalls the temples of the ancient Gods."

"Oh yes, these will be glorious times indeed. We can finally rebuild our huts and cottages while you rebuild your palaces. We can toil on the Isle's fields, give our children to your temples, bow to every embroidered robe that comes our way – I am pretty much looking forward to it. I really am."

Angrily Ravenclaw watched the Druid leader stroll away. Not for the first time the Baron wished that he could do without the Druids' support. Alas, he couldn't. Sighing, he turned to follow the Prince inside.

Somewhat later, Arthur gratefully imposed on Gryffyd's gracious hospitality. Most tactfully the old knight had let him know that he didn't smell exactly of rose petals, as Pendragon still wore the clothes that had first been bloodied and torn during the fight against the bandits in the forest. He had neither washed nor changed in almost five days. Bodmin had clearly seen no need for that and his prisoner had been too proud to beg for some water and fresh clothes.

The Prince was munching through the last crumbs of a big meal when a young servant furtively peeped through the door, the whole lean, skinny half-grown figure almost vanishing behind some big towels and a heap of clothes. "Your Highness?"

"And who would you be?"

"Sim, Sire. My name is Sim. Sir Gryffyd sends his compliments, Sire and would Your Highness kindly put up with some of his late son's clothes. Sire."

Frowning at the repetitive use of his title, Arthur took the bundle of shirt and breeches and other stuff while he strode towards the folding screen in the corner. "You can tell your master I feel most honoured by the offer."

"Yes, Sire!" Scared stiff Sim stared at the opposite wall as hard as he could while Arthur's rags flew over the screen.

"_Dear Gods what a meek little mouse_" Pendragon thought; no longer aware of the fact that not all servants in the world behaved like a certain young warlock around their masters.

"So you work for Sir Gryffyd usually?" he tried to break the ice, glad for the opportunity to have a little chat while he washed and dressed.

"Yes, Sire."

"Do you like your work?" Arthur Pendragon wasn't easily discouraged.

"Yes, Sire."

The Prince's shoulders fell a bit. "And where do you come from?"

"It's called rabbits' den, Sire."

"_Aptly named!_" Arthur couldn't help but think. "Have you been here long?"

"No, not really. I came from my village almost a year ago."

Arthur gave the youngster a closer look. There was something in these wide, innocent eyes and in the way he talked... "You're a Druid" the Prince stated. "Why on earth should a Druid be a servant? With your magic, it's ridiculous that..._a sorcerer should play the slave when he could be the master_" Arthur wanted to add, before he remembered his father's fears of Merlin's alleged sinister motives.

"I don't have magic" Sim said, his face a burning shameful red.

"Why ever not? Have you done something wrong? Didn't you want to learn or what?"

"I was born without it. It happens. Your people are sometimes born with it; my people are sometimes born without." He looked so very brave while he tried to lift his chin as if he didn't care at all that Arthur took him into his heart instantly.

"But even without magic, you should have stayed with your own people. Camelot is dangerous for the likes of you."

"Not here, Sire, not around the Devil's Claw, thanks to you and Sir Gryffyd and the High... the Baron of Ravenclaw. And I couldn't have stayed with my folks. We are five tribes here now and I heard only yesterday from Master Algernon himself that a sixth tribe is going to come here, from the borderland between Camelot and King Cendred's land, now that it is no longer safe for Druids there.

Arthur let the wash cloth fall. _Six_ tribes? He had been planning for two larger groups at most!

Meanwhile Sim continued talking. "My mother was very glad she got me this place, we were ever so hungry back home; there were seven of us children, and my invalid father, when my eldest brother got married my mother said I could not stay at home, I'd take the food out of their mouths, so she brought me here, you see….Without magic I'd be useless anywhere but among the magic-blinds, she said….."

Arthur stared art the youngster, dumbfounded. The concept that a person should be expelled by his folks because he had _no_ magic was a bit too alien for Uther Pendragon's son.

Suddenly Sim remembered whom he was talking to. He broke off in mid sentence, his face flaming red again and more than a little fearful. When Arthur made a sudden movement, grabbing a towel from Sim's hand, the boy shied away as if he had been beaten.

At once, the Prince felt ashamed and as always, it made him snappy. "Hey, what's the matter; got your tongue stuck in your mouth again or what?"

"No…..no… Your Highness; it's just that Lord Gryffyd says I talk too much and he says I must be very careful with you, Sire."

"Careful? My own servant is never careful with me, and I haven't killed him yet…."

Arthur broke off; unwanted memories of his warlock friend whom he had left behind with his kind's most mortal enemy silenced him.

A part of his fear left the young peasant and a bit more trusting now, he shuffled somewhat nearer to the folding screen that separated bathing tube and washing stand from Sir Gryffyd's bedroom. However, Sim jerked away again when he had a closer look at Arthur's body.

"Who has done this?" he asked aghast. "And _why_?"

"Done what?" Lost in memories, absent-minded and very far away from Devil's Claw Arthur hardly heard the servant.

"These…injuries. You've been tied up. And someone has beaten you!"

"Oh, that. That'll heal."

"But you are a Prince. I thought Princes don't get hurt, never. I mean, it's okay when I am beaten, but you….."

"Does Sir Gryffyd beat you?"

Sim pulled back from the sudden anger in Arthur's voice and face. "S…s…s…sometimes he had me flogged; it's all right though, I deserved it…"

"No, you did not! Whatever you did, he had no right to tie you to a pole and beat the living daylights out of you. Nobody has."

Now where had that idiotic thought come from? A knight, the Lord of the castle, had no right to have a _servant_ flogged? Arthur almost heard his father and the other nobles roar with laughter and he clenched his jaws.

Sim didn't understand anything of this, except that he shouldn't be here, having this conversation with a half naked Crown Prince. "Your shirt, Sire."

Arthur dressed with curt, angry movements, combed his wet hair with five fingers and declared that this would do. "What are you gawking at?" he asked when Sim stared at him with his mouth open.

Only when the boy let his shoulders fall and made himself as small as possible, panting with obvious fear, Arthur jerked out of his miserable reveries. This wasn't Merlin. This was a perfectly normal servant, the kind of servant his father liked to have around, submissive, gentle and always afraid, always terrified because every step and every word could bring about another punishment, another day in the stocks or something worse.

Arthur had watched his father and the others coercing peasants and servants into submission, persecuting Druids and killing alleged sorcerers all his life and he had not given a damn about the poor wretches.

Why the hell did he care now? Because this time the lash had not hit some insignificant stranger but some people the Crown Prince of Camelot cared about? Or was it something else? Were his father's cruelty, hypocrisy and carelessness so very important all of a sudden because, for the very first time, their full force had hit his _son_?

"My Lord, please….I….I beg you. Please. If you tell Sir Gryffyd anything about me being cheeky he'll sure chuck me out. I need this place, I cannot go to my mother, she won't have me. I'll starve."

"Don't worry, Sim. I won't tell him anything. Besides, you've done nothing wrong. I'm sorry I yelled at you. You're a very good servant."

Sim, this time with his mouth gawking like an open barn door, looked after him when Arthur went to the door, and the young Druid's face wore an expression of utter adoration. In this brief spell he had found the hero of his life.

Arthur, on the other hand, was as dissatisfied with himself as he could possibly be. How on earth could he have been splashing in the bath tube most happily? He had never asked for details of his friends' fate, never asked after Gwen's well-being, never asked for Merlin, Gwaine, Gaius, the others' situation, nothing. Ravenclaw had only told him so much; in his profound relief he hadn't thought of asking for more news. He had to find the Baron. Now!

However, before he even reached the door, someone knocked once and entered immediately, without any further ado. Algernon's triangular fox-face folded into a friendly grin. "Your Highness. It's good to see you're your old self again. I want a word with you. Now!"

"_Not_ now, Algernon, I have to see the Baron about…"

"About your men and the woman. No need for that. She's fine the Baron said; they're on their way here, Ravenclaw invited them; he made sure that they would not arrive prematurely. We'll fly a signal banner from the battlement as a sign that all is well. You'll meet them tomorrow morning. Anything else you'd like to know?"

"You never cease to astound me" Arthur said, shaking his head. "No further questions."

"Good. That's good. Sit, I must talk to you."

The Druid sat down cross legged on a cushion he had thrown to the floor and Arthur followed suit. When Algernon wanted to talk, he would talk, and if Pendragon didn't listen, the loss would be on the Prince's side. The Druid leader was not in the habit of repeating himself.

"You know, you never strike me as a Druid" Arthur opened negotiations – there was no other kind of talk between him and Algernon – "the age-old spiritual wisdom, the mysterious talk, the presumptuous aura of moral superiority, the lofty talk of pacifism – you don't sport any of it."

The Druid grinned merrily. "Never had much time for these soul things. Too preoccupied with saving my body from your father. Sim!"

The boy hurried into the room from somewhere behind the folding screen with wide eyes. "Is there anything you wish, master?"

"Wine! And don't forget to pour a glass for the Prince!"

"I am most grateful to you, dearest Algernon" Arthur was chuckling now. He was exhausted enough to lie down and sleep for a week and yet this man never ceased to lift his spirits. "How very considerate of you. Especially as the boy as well as the wine were sent to me by Sir Gryffyd."

"The boy belongs to my tribe. And the wine is bad anyway."

"If the boy is one of your own, why did you allow his mother to dumb him here?"

Sim's cheeks flushed once more while Algernon shrugged. "The wine maybe bad but the food is good. He's growing again since he's here. Back home he first stopped growing, then he started starving."

"Why didn't you take care of him?"

"Because we are too many for that kind of caring."

"And that's what you wanted to talk to me about."

"No! Read this!" Algernon threw a role of parchment into Arthur's lap.

Knowing better than to pester his counterpart with superfluous questions, the Prince opened the parchment and began to read. When he was through, he was very pale. "How did you get that?"

"Your Gaius gave it to Ravenclaw. Your father's speech is very revealing, is it not."

Arthur jumped to his feet and began an angry pacing. "A second purge! I can't believe it."

"He's after your sister and the Most Revered Lady Morgause; that much is obvious."

Never before Arthur had heard someone talking of Morgause as "The Most Revered Lady". It confounded him as much as anything else he had read or heard.

"What do you mean?"

"Your father wants his Kingdom back and he wants to keep it. He wants both their heads."

The Prince's stomach turned at the thought of Uther wanting to kill his own daughter. Nagging painfully the question of what his father had wanted to do with _him_ came back, until he shoved it to the back of his mind with a will.

"What have the Druids to do with the two women?"

"Morgause is a High Priestess of the Blessed Isle. Morgana is her only living blood relative. That makes your sister an adept. Under the laws of the old religion we Druids owe a …certain allegiance to the Acolytes of the Old Religion."

"We did not find a single Druid among the fallen or the captives we made of Camelot's enemies. Otherwise I'd never have spoken to you; I'd killed you on sight."

"I thought that much. And the allegiance is not as strong as it once was. We are our own masters now. Isn't that so, Sim?"

"Y…ye…s" the boy said, incredulous that he should suddenly be a part of this high and mighty conversation. He yelped softly when Algernon pulled him down to the floor at his side. "There are many like him among us today, Arthur Pendragon. In former times, the Isle would have made sure that he never fathered magic-blind children, not even if they had allowed him to live as their servant. So you might say that his mother followed an old custom when she dumped him here. And I dare say Gryffyd did the boy less harm than some High Masters of the Isle would have caused. But your father never cared much for such details."

"So King Uther believes that my sister and Morgause have come to your people for protection. If he kills the last Druids, he will find Morgana too."

Algernon nodded, making a mental note of Arthur's stubborn refusal to call the King 'father'. Ravenclaw was much interested in such things. "It's nonsense of course. We wouldn't know where a Most Revered Lady of the Isle would hide. Only her adepts or blood guards or another Prince of the Isle would know and even under torture they'd rather die than spill the beans."

"Is that why the sixth tribe is coming here? Because they've heard of the planned purge?"

"Yes. I notified their elders the moment I had set eyes on this" Algernon nodded his head towards the parchment. "We will have to make do with even less food, even less room and old Gryffyd is tearing his hair even now while we speak but at least my brothers and sisters will be safe. As long as Uther does not know we are here."

"Presently he does not. Bodmin's brother Malcolm made sure of that."

"If your father _did_ know, he had not sent you here but to any other dungeon he saw fit." Algernon's voice was hard and Sim flinched a bit, looking at Arthur and his reaction to this.

But for the moment, Pendragon had other things on his mind. "Thank heaven Bodmin is still alive. As long as he writes regularly to the King, reporting him everything about me and my most humble submission, His Majesty will never suspect that Devil's Claw is now the centre of the biggest Druid Community in all of Camelot. That'll buy us precious time."

Algernon let go of the breath he had been holding. Great Mother, for once the Druids had saddled the right horse. What a King this young magic-blind with the obnoxious family name would make one day. If only Emrys could have been here to see the seed he had sawn at the peril of his life bear fruit.

"I had hoped Your Highness would come to this conclusion. Do you think you could persuade the Earl to….cooperate?"

"King Uther would take it out on Angus' brother if he were to learn that Bodmin has failed him. Besides, I could always tell the Earl that I'd leave him to Ravenclaw's tender mercy if he refused me. The Baron owes him a disgraceful dismissal."

"It's more than that" Algernon said. "You surely know that there is a blood feud between the two houses."

"I know the two of them are rivals but nothing whatsoever about a blood feud. It's a big word, don't you think?"

"It's perfectly appropriate!"

"Do you know any details? I was too small to see or hear much of it and the King never told me much either."

The Druid settled down more comfortably and pushed Sim gently into his ribs. The youngster jerked out of his fascination with a jump. '"Fetch us some more wine, will you? You can as well do us a favour while you are here."

The young servant ran to fetch the wine and Algernon rubbed his hair thoughtfully. Gods, he liked this Prince, and for a moment the temptation to tell Arthur everything and let him be the judge of what to make of it was overwhelming. And yet, the High Master could still be right. Only a complete breach between father and son, without anyone's interference brought about by Uther alone, would ensure the future safety of the magic community and the Druids.

"I know the background of the feud, yes. We all do, as the Ravenclaw lands have been settled by Druids for many a century. Frankly, Arthur, it's a somewhat messy story. You may know that the Baron of Ravenclaw is not a native of Camelot. It must have been somewhat after your father had levelled the Isle of the Blessed and burnt its temples to ashes, that he came to the Citadel. A knight of high rank once, he had lost all his family, his land and title, even the claim to his name, or so he said, when his clan's stronghold had been destroyed by a brutal attacker."

Sim came back, delivered the wine and settled down again at his fellow Druid's side, as if it was the most natural thing to do, his meekness completely forgotten.

"Your father took an immediate liking to him" Algernon continued. "Uther was short of men; the Purge had cost Camelot dearly, in soldiers, money and in allies. You might well say that your father drove himself out of the High Kingship when he drove magic out of Camelot."

Arthur winced slightly and Algernon paused. "I never said you'd like the story much."

"Go on with it" the Prince said. "Just spare me the jibes, will you?"

"Any road, there was much fighting to do in Camelot back then and the young Sir du Lac – that was the name he had given himself – won them all. He climbed up through the ranks and in your father's favour, stepping on many a toe. There was another family at Court, ancient nobility of the realm, and also much accomplished, albeit their warriors were not the same class as Sir du Lac." Algernon suppressed a grin. Small wonder when the one had only his sword and shield and the other had magic at his disposal.

"The Branguards hated the newcomer with the kind of envious rage only you magic-blind aristocrats can feel – no offence to you, My Prince. For a while they settled down to bickering and spreading nasty rumours. But then Angus, the eldest son, became head of the family and his eight years old brother's guardian at the age of only eighteen, when their parents, their uncle, his wife and children were killed in an ambush in the forest. There were no survivors and the murderers were never found.

The new Lord Branguard was devastated for all I know, almost killed by grief and anger. He succeeded in keeping some of the family estate, but most of the fortune was seized by greedy human vultures, one way or the other. Soon Angus began to suspect Sir du Lac of the murder, and he said so, publicly. Your father forbade any further accusations but Angus didn't care. Finally Branguard challenged Sir du Lac to a duel. They fought and Angus lost. King Uther banished Angus from Court and kept young Malcolm, officially as his ward, unofficially as his hostage, in case Angus would kick up a breeze."

Algernon emptied his glass and turned it musingly in his hand. He wasn't lying; he just kept a few details to himself. Details like du Lac's real name and origins.

"When Angus came of age he requested permission to come back to Court, to claim the hand of his betrothed. The Lady of Ravenclaw was an orphan herself; however she was the richest heiress in the land. With her the highest place in Camelot's nobility would come to the Branguards. Angus' family had arranged the match, but the two young people also liked each other very much.

Well, your father granted the request, Angus' banishment was lifted and he came back to Court just in time to see his betrothed being married off to du Lac, by King Uther's order. Malcolm was du Lac's page boy at the wedding. Then and there Branguard swore revenge on du Lac and had it not been for your father having him and Malcolm arrested he would have tried to kill him on the spot. So du Lac became the Baron of Ravenclaw and Chairman of the Crown Council to anyone's dismay. Angus settled down at least outwardly after a while, because, without your father's support and protection, he and Malcolm might well have perished.

Some years later King Uther and Ravenclaw fell out with each other temporarily about the issue of Duke Gorlois' mysterious death on the Northern border. I doubt that anyone knows what the quarrel really was about and it is idle to repeat the nasty gossip here; you will have heard it well enough when you found a foster sister in your chambers."

Indeed, Arthur had heard it. Back then he had hated the people who had slandered his father, of having forsaken Gorlois, and maybe for a very private reason, although the term 'private reason' had not meant much to the little boy back then. Now the Prince wondered how much of it might have been true.

"Well, the rest is easily told. As a reminder of who's boss King Uther gave Bodmin, title and fortune, to Angus of Branguard, together with a seat in the Council. Ravenclaw got the message and publicly submitted to the King's higher wisdom. Angus and Ravenclaw hate each other bitterly and your father had his peace from both of them.

In the years Ravenclaw held his office, the Purge died down slowly but surely. While you were growing up, Council and King were distracted by more worldly affairs. Finally Uther strove for peace at least with his fellow Kings. Albeit he did no such thing with the magicians of Albion, his persecution of magic became less preeminent. Until now."

"Do you think it's true?" Arthur asked softly. "Did Ravenclaw murder Branguard's family?

"_You bet he did. Three dozens of men, many women and the three children he had cut down to become the richest peer of the realm and head of the Council. Hundreds, maybe thousands he has saved since then_" Algernon thought and shrugged dismissively. "We will never know, My Prince. Anyway, it's all in the past."

"Will you do it?" Sim said excitedly, utterly oblivious of the impropriety of his interference. "Will you keep your father away from us?"

An angry reply already on his lips, Arthur swallowed it. Wrong place, wrong time and wrong servant for the usual trade of insults. "Yes, Sim. I will give it a try. Effective immediately."

The Prince found the Baron in Gryffyd's office. As Arthur had half and half expected, he flew into a rage as soon as Pendragon mentioned the possibility of striking some kind of a bargain with Bodmin.

"I will not let the imbecile go and call me a coward to anyone's ear" the Baron roared. "It's inappropriate."

"There is something else that is inappropriate here" Arthur replied coldly. "May I remind you that the decision is mine and mine alone." By now Pendragon was incredibly tired, sick to the bones of intrigues, double-games and old grudges. His voice sounded all the more sharp and commandingly for his lack of patience.

"You cannot possibly..." Ravenclaw shouted, but then he stopped himself. "As Your Highness wishes, of course."

"Indeed I _do_ wish, My Lord Baron. I wish not to broaden the rifts between two of Camelot's greatest families. This childish vendetta is unworthy of two grown-up men who both held – hold as far as I am concerned – the highest offices the Crown has to give. I wish my realm to have a future. I will not allow such foolishness to meddle with it!"

My realm. _**My**_ realm. To the Baron's ears the one syllable was the sweetest music. "_Oh, Uther, when I'm finished with you, you will not know what has hit you_" he thought. His anger completely vanished he bowed politely and with honest respect. "Your wish is my command, Your Highness."

Arthur thought he had heard a false tone in that. "I'm serious, Ravenclaw. I will not tolerate an accident or anything else of the kind. _I_ will speak to Bodmin. Now is that clear?"

Ravenclaw cocked his brow. He had heard the outright distrust in that and distrust between them would not do. "Arthur, your father has declared me an enemy of Camelot; surely my escape has made him seize my wife and fortune. You are my only asset. If for no other reason, you should rely on me because of that."

The Prince felt a pang of guilty conscience. The man had done so much for him….

Algernon, who had strolled in unobtrusively in the Prince's wake while Sim had naturally stayed back in Arthur's rooms, came to the rescue. "That's settled then. Oh, what a great time we Druids are going to have. A dog's kennel for a castle, a captive Prince for a guest, an honoured Earl for a captive and the pictures of a banquet instead of food."

It had never before struck Arthur as peculiar that the most self-confident Druid played the stupid fool in Ravenclaw's presence whenever he met him. However, nobody had anything to reply to that and after some awkward moments of silence, Ravenclaw bowed once more and took his leave.

"Well roared, lion" Algernon said while he rummaged through the documents on Gryffyd's desk.

"Thanks" Arthur said, desperately trying to make up his mind whether to speak to Bodmin at once or to call it a day. He didn't feel his legs anymore and his head was so empty.

Algernon slammed some other parchments against the Prince's chest and reflexively Arthur took them.

"You should study those, too" the Druid said. "They will make a wonderful read. Very enlightening."

Pendragon surrendered. Leave the talking to Bodmin for tomorrow.

Half an hour later, Sim left his newly found object of adoration and hurried towards his own bed near the kitchen, glad to have an evening off so unexpectedly. Dashing around a corner he halted in the very last second before he reached the stairwell when he heard Ravenclaw's voice in the corridor below.

"Have you told him all that was necessary?" the Baron had just said.

"I have" Algernon replied angrily. "And I have made sure that he sees his father's orders. Exactly as you wished, High Master."

"Do I hear some criticism in your voice, dear Algernon? What do you really think of me, I sometimes wonder?"

"In general or right now?"

"Both of it, if it's not too much to ask."

"In general I used too think that I despise your methods, but I see the beneficial effects of what you did, for all of us."

"So what has changed? What do you think right now?"

"That you are a filthy, brutal pig that should be extinguished from the face of this earth!"

Sim recoiled from the stairwell and hasted back. Tonight he would sleep on the cot in the servants' quarter adjacent to Sir Gryffyd's chambers. He would just check on his new master; then he would dive into the bed and pretend that he had never heard anything.


	13. Requiem for a sorcerer

**13. **** Requiem for a sorcerer**

Sim's caution, when he peeped into Gryffyd's – now the Prince's – bedroom was superfluous. Other than he had thought when he had gratefully jumped into the bed, Arthur was wide awake. Yet, had he been asleep, he could not have been more oblivious of the young Druid.

Pendragon had dumped the heap of parchments Algernon had given him on the bedside table, utterly resolved not to touch them before tomorrow morning. He had firmly planned to drift away with the comforting thought of Guinivere's and the others' – well, especially Guinivere's - upcoming arrival solely on his mind.

Naturally the fact that the documents sported the Camelot seal had been stronger than his resolve.

When Sim tip-toed out again, Arthur was deeply buried in the last and most extensive of the epistles. He read the whole thing twice, then a third time, before his father's familiar hand was blurred by a haze before his eyes.

This had been easier to stomach if he had not recognized his father's careful love for details in every word, in the whole set up of these orders; the love for detail Uther reserved exclusively for things of the utmost importance to him. This had not been brought on the parchment in a hasty, angry uproar of emotion, this had been deliberate, well considered and most carefully phrased. Uther had not even needed Geoffrey's help. While the orders for Bodmin taking charge of the prisoner as well as of the stronghold at Devil's Claw had clearly been written out by the old clerk, the orders for the treatment of the prodigal son had been written by the King himself. "_Must have taken him almost the whole night_" Arthur thought uselessly. "_No wonder he looked so tired when he told me how much he was looking forward to our trip together_."

Almost against his will, he returned to the beginning of the warrant a fourth time.

_**To our most honoured and esteemed friend and ally His Lordship Angus Lord Branguard, by our pleasure Earl of Bodmin. As his Lord and Liege we call on him and beseech him to treat the prisoner we have given into his care, Arthur Pendragon, once Crown Prince of Camelot, whom we have looked upon as our beloved son until such circumstances came to our knowledge that this could be upheld no longer, with all the rigour necessary and all the hardship unavoidable to prevent an escape or any unduly communication with or knowledge of the outside world, on pain of death.**_

_** We beseech Your Lordship to **__**particularly observe and lend weight to the following issues:**_

_** The arrest as well as the custody of the prisoner is to be treated as a secret affair of state; to spread knowledge or word about it is to be looked upon as High Treason, punishable by death.**_

_** The prisoner is to be brought to the stronghold of Devil's Claw, to be secured there and kept isolated from everyone else except My Lord Earl and His Lordship of Branguard, your brother. **_

_** The prisoner will not sent or receive any letters or other communications except those we will see fit to receive from him or send to him in due time. Your Lordships will take the utmost care that the prisoner will not send any letters without your full knowledge of their content; not even to us.**_

_** As for the prisoner's quarters, sustenance, clothing and other circumstances of living, Your Lordship**__**s will consider security and **__**secrecy above all else as well as see to it that no unnecessary lavishness is installed at the Crown's expense.**_

_** Your Lordships will take the utmost care that the prisoner is not left alone at any given moment, be it day or night, and that his every move or word, as it may be relevant to the charges which are to be brought up against him in due time and procedure, is reported to me, together with a full report of his general behaviour and attitude.**_

_** As for an eventual disciplining of the prisoner, in case of resistance, attempts at escape or other acts of rebellion against our authority or against the authority we have bestowed in Your Lordships, we hereby give Your Lordships our unlimited permission to proceed as you may see fit by your own equitable discretion, only advising you to duly consider the prisoner's life and general aptitude of body.**_

_** Your Lordships will keep these orders a secret from anyone, especially from the prisoner himself. You will tell the prisoner only what**__** is necessary to elucidate the seriousness of his situation.**_

_** Your Lordships are not bound to consider the prisoner's will or his wishes on any given issue; Your Lordships are especially forbidden to accept the prisoner's parole or any other commitment or pledge otherwise bestowed as a prerogative of nobility or knighthood, as all privileges of rank or title are her**__**eby withdrawn.**_

It didn't occur to him that some of these orders had been meant to spur the recipient or to intimidate the prodigal son. He never noticed that some of this was not coherent with his father's speech that he had read. Disgusted beyond endurance, Arthur tasted bile in his mouth.

Apparently he owed the wretched Earl an apology. It had been a considerable act of courage to request the offensive prisoner's parole, with such an order burning in ones pocket.

He reached the washing stand in the very last minute before he threw up everything he had had inside him.

Now, finally, he folded the parchment and stowed it away in a desk, together with the other documents. Maybe Sir Gryffyd had not yet seen that his 30 years of faithful service to Camelot as well as the sacrifice of his son in a forgotten skirmish somewhere along the borders had led to a shameful dismissal and a penniless future, just because a King and his greatest Baron no longer saw eye to eye.

That done, Arthur crawled back between the bed-sheets and curled up into a ball. He felt no pain, no hurt; just a vast, empty hole in his mind. If he felt anything at all, it was shame. Shame about his own naïveté, his stubborn, blind believe in this man, his unlimited adoration, and most of all his life-long willingness to become Uther Pendragon's accomplice. In wilful murder or turnouts of some hapless peasants; even while in his cradle he had been the perfect excuse for an abominable persecution of probably innocent people, accused of an evil they never committed.

"_I can't understand why Morgana should turn against us. She was like a sister to me; my father always treated her like his own daughter. We never gave her a reason_…" This memory burned like acid now. His sister had had _every_ reason to hate them both; Uther more for what he was than for what he had actually done and her idiot brother for his unlimited submission to the man.

Unwanted, invincible, all the memories of life with his father came back to him and he marvelled at his own stupidity. How often had he known, just known beyond any doubt, that Uther was wrong, doing the wrong things, making the wrong decisions? And yet he had done nothing. _Nothing_!

For the remainder of the night, Arthur tortured himself over all the missed opportunities to get things right in Camelot while he had still had the chance. Under the load of self-accusations, the anger, hurt and fury his father's orders had caused vanished almost to nothing.

In the first hours of dawn, he drifted off to sleep.

He was still sleeping when Sim sneaked back in later that morning. For a while, the young Druid shifted from one foot to the other before he made up his mind and shook his new master's shoulder vehemently. "Sire, there are people on the way uphill.

Never in his life Pendragon had been that quick in getting dressed. When another servant announced that the guests had arrived, Arthur stormed down the corridor, through the hall and down the stairs into the court yard.

In all the turmoil of nervous horses, dismounting men, wary guards and attentive servants he saw only her.

They met in the centre of the square, clinging to each other for dear life, stammering some idiotic, incoherent nonsense into each other's ears until their lips met and for one blessed moment nothing was important any more and Camelot, her King and everybody else be damned.

Gaius studied the others' faces while they watched the pair kissing in the centre of a court yard full of battle hardened warriors, Druids and nosy servants. Lancelot was blushing, looking as happy as a drowned rat. The corners of Gwaine's mouth twitched upwards for the first time in four days. Elyan smiled like the proud brother and future brother in law he was, Leon stared at a point above him, watching the pair only from the corner of his eye and Percival shook his head with an angry frown on his face. "_Waste of time_" he seemed to think.

When Arthur and Gwen finally parted and remembered that, in spite of their wishes, they were not alone in this world, the Prince greeted Gaius first, and somehow it seemed completely natural that the healer should hug his Prince warmly. "Gods, Gaius, it's so good to see you. I was so sure I'd never see you again."

With the experienced eye of a physician and of a life long friend, the healer eyed the young man up and he swallowed angrily. Underneath these fine clothes, which obviously were not his own, Arthur's body would tell a nasty tale of what had happened to him over the last few days, and for all his smiling, his face and eyes told even worse a story.

Arthur, however, had other things on his mind. He was very, very fond of each and every one of them all, but besides Guinivere, there was only one person he really longed to see right now. "Where's Merlin? Don't tell me he has fallen from his horse. Not again!"

The others fell dead silent. Guinivere's chin trembled. Gwaine gritted his teeth and kicked his foot into the ground viciously. Leon suddenly had some very urgent business with his saddle.

"Why are you staring like moonstruck calves? Where is he?"

Slowly but surely Arthur's smile died away. He swallowed painfully before he spoke again. "Please, don't tell me that the King has kept him in the dungeons. Not him alone. He knows Merlin wouldn't stand that...he.."

"Merlin is dead, Arthur!" Gwaine's voice was merciless, hard, accusing. "Your father has murdered him. During this hunting trip you dragged him to. You knew he did not trust your precious King, but you needed someone to fetch and carry for you, didn't you."

"Stop it, Gwaine" Leon said, seeing Arthur growing ghastly pale, waxen.

"No I will not. Merlin is dead and it's Arthur's fault."

"I said, be quiet!" Leon lunched out and his fist crashed into Gwaine's face with all his strength. Snarling like some enraged animal from the forest Gwaine lunged at the other knight. It needed four of Gryffyd's guards to separate them.

Gaius nodded at Gwen to take Arthur's arm while he gently grabbed the other one. "Let's go inside, Sire. This is no good." Louder he said to one of the servants who enjoyed the unusual show of aristocratic passion running high "see to it that these noble knights are shown to their quarters. Haul your arses before I make you!"

On the top of the stairs, Ravenclaw joined the three of them, smiling radiantly but his smile faded quickly at the sight of their faces. "What happened? I thought you'd be glad and now that?"

"Merlin is dead" Arthur replied. It felt so wrong he had to repeat it, to convince himself that it was true. "You remember him? Uther has killed him."

"But why should he….the boy was only a servant, he was of no significance. Why should the King…that's monstrous. The poor, wretched lad, he never did anyone any harm."

"Merlin was a sorcerer" Arthur said harshly. "He was a sorcerer who's saved the King's life because I asked him to do it. He gave himself away because I told him to, for _me_ he gave up his cover and it got him killed. He had done nothing wrong and now he's dead because I could not keep my big mouth shut!" He yelled the last words and he had no idea what he had caused in Gaius and Guinivere.

She was frozen where she stood, comprehending nothing. Gaius' thoughts were racing. He believed and did not believe in Arthur's guilt, all at the same time. From somewhere very far away the sounds of a struggle reached him; Gwaine's angry voice, some murmur and yelping from the others.

Suddenly Arthur yanked his arms free from their hands. "Oh, leave me alone!"

And off he was, running blindly, almost faster than when he had wanted to join them earlier.

Ravenclaw held back Guinivere when she wanted to follow him. "Leave him be. He has had more than a usual lot of unwanted news these last few days, give him time."

And they gave Arthur time, as much as he wanted. Hour after hour he spent on the castle's highest tower, well out of anybody's way, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.

But it didn't work. When the sun set, he was where he had been in the morning. At the very beginning of it all; the whole thing a mystery to him, a twisted riddle. How could his father have done a thing like that? How could _anyone_ ever do a thing like that? _How_? But why ask? The King who once had had children drowned for the mere possibility that they might have magic was capable of everything.

It was on this turret where Gaius finally found him. Unceremoniously he dropped down at the younger man's side. "How did you find out?" he asked after a while. "Merlin was so sure that you not even guessed his secret."

"I just put two and two together over time" Arthur answered mechanically. "Frankly, I thought that you would know about me ….. guessing at things finally. I mean, I took my unarmed, clumsy servant with me in fights in which I did not want to take my knights, not even Gwaine."

Gaius accepted that silently. As oblivious as he and the young warlock had been of it back then, as plain and obvious it appeared now that Arthur would have known about Merlin's powers before bringing him into mortal danger without even a sword to wield.

"Would you like to know what happened?" the healer said. "As far as I know myself, that is. Maybe afterwards you could tell me what really happened between the three of you in the forest? I would like to know."

Arthur just nodded once, his gaze stubbornly glued to the landscape. Gaius cleared his throat and began to tell what had happened after the King had released them all from the dungeons.

The healer had felt unbelievably tired after he had left Uther's hall.

It was a matter of routine, not of conscious choice that he went straight to his quarters. Once in the infirmary he closed the door softly behind him and tip-toed to the room in the back, as if somebody was in there whose sleep he did not want to disturb.

For a long time, he just stood in the door-frame and stared at the small room, its Spartan furnishings and the few belongings which were scattered here and there.

Finally he took the small wooden dragon from the board and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he packed a few things, a few books, Merlin's spell books among them, some clothes, a leather purse heavy with coins. His life-time savings.

The guards at the gates didn't hinder him when he went out. He wasn't the first of the former detainees who left the castle today and it wasn't for them to humiliate any of these people any further.

The old healer found the smaller and older one of the lower town's wells as deserted as he had expected. Nevertheless he hurried through the tracking spell for which he had taken the small dragon figure, only to curse under his breath when the incantations had no result. Thrice he repeated the whole ritual, but to no effect. The wooden figure began its search, he felt and heard the soft humming of the spell when it did. But it found nothing, nothing at all. The person it had belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Gaius slumped down on the well's edge. So Uther had lied to him, lied through his teeth when he had told him that he had sent Merlin back to Ealdor.

Almost thirty years of friendship! And it had all led to this. A quick stab in the back, or a cut through the throat, a young skinny body that was thrown into a lake or buried hastily in a godforsaken place in the forest – and that was that.

Whether Merlin had died before Arthur had been taken or because he had tried to help his friend – somehow Uther must have found out that he had magic.

Not for a second Gaius believed that the Prince had consented to his father's doings. The Royal and his Wizard had been too close for that. Besides, his father's treacherous, volatile nature had not come to Arthur; of that Gaius was sure.

What had Arthur been doing while his warlock-friend had died? Had he screamed, fought until they had pinned him down, begged his father for mercy?

Gaius pulled himself together and rose to his feet. Arthur was out of reach, in his father's hold; perhaps for a very long time. For the time being, there were other people who were entitled to the care and attention of Merlin's guardian and surrogate-father. As the young warlock could no longer protect his friends, someone else had to do it for him.

Once arrived at Guinivere's house, the healer was astonished to hear loud male voices from within; in fact the quarrel was loud and passionate enough to drown out Gaius' entry.

"I still say our first priority must be to find the Prince" Leon was just saying, obviously trying to be the voice of reason in a very stormy discussion.

"What for?" Gwaine snarled at him. "Whether Uther kicked him in the ass, sold him in the market or skinned him alive; Arthur would never let his precious father down, never." He grabbed his bag and strode towards the door, his whole demeanour stating beyond any doubt that he would go now, never to come back.

He was so set on his purpose that he didn't see Gaius before he ran into him, head first. "Gwaine" the physician said. "Are you sure you want to use this door? There's a much shorter way out, through the wall."

"Where's Merlin?" the angry man asked instead of a greeting. "He's the only one with a rest of common sense in this whole Kingdom."

"Merlin is dead."

The quarrelling voices lapsed into silence after this announcement. They all stared disbelievingly at the old healer.

"I have it on good authority" Gaius continued, he himself being astonished at how cold and restrained his voice sounded "Uther has killed him."

"My Gods" Leon whispered after a moment. "How could he? He owed the boy his life, we all did."

"He's mad" Percy said. "People were right. Ravenclaw was right. Arthur should have taken the throne; his father is a rabid dog."

Lancelot still looked at the healer. "So Uther has finally found out. He was bound to, sooner or later. Merlin knew that. I told him he'd better speak to Arthur while it was still time…."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Gwaine suddenly yelled at the top of his voice. "Who cares why the bastard did it? He's dead and there's an end to it. When it came down to it, his beloved Prince didn't lift a finger; your precious Arthur is a coward and a fake, like all the rest of them…"

He had wanted to say more but his head snapped back against the wall when his face was slapped with ferocious force.

With watering eyes and a bleeding nose he stared uncomprehendingly into Gwen's enraged face. "Say that again" she hissed "and I'll cut your tongue out."

She had her hand on the knife in her belt and in this very moment no one doubted that she spoke in earnest. Gwaine wiped his face, and her hand flinched violently, grabbing the knife's hilt, until Lancelot's arms embraced her, gently trying to pull her away.

"Don't you dare touch me" she screamed. "Who's interested in you anyway? All of you, you come, you go, just as you please. None of you belongs here. What do _you_ know about him and his sense of duty? Nothing!"

Her gaze fell on Elyan's sad face. "Don't stand there gawking. Half an hour from now the gates will be closed. We've overstayed our welcome in Camelot."

Furiously she began to grab some of her belongings, only to cast them away again and grab others, until Gaius stopped her.

He let her fists thrum against his chest as long as she wanted; in her senseless fury she even kicked his legs once or twice. Finally her wrath left her and she ended up in the healer's arms, sobbing.

After a few minutes, in which the men looked everywhere but at the crying woman, Gaius took her chin and forced her to look at him. "Stop this frenzy, at once. No one will benefit from you endangering your child."

"We still have to decide on a place to go" Leon said, using his chance to bring them all back to their senses. "She's right; the gates will be closed soon."

"What is this about the gates being closed?" Gaius asked.

"We have all been banished by His most gracious Majesty" Elyan added. "Uther has pissed on his son's word of honour. If we are caught in Camelot after the gates have been closed, we are for the hangman, all of us, even Leon and my sister."

Gaius closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "Then we will go to Ealdor" he decided. "It's outside Camelot territory, Uther has no jurisdiction there."

"Why should a bunch of serfs take us in?" This was Leon again. "They'll run like hell as soon as they see our swords and chain-mail. No farmer has any liking for a knight."

"These have. Ealdor was Merlin's village, his mother still lives there. And they are indebted to Arthur and Gwen. They both helped to save the village from some rogue knights' looting and raping. Arthur taught them how to fight, how to hold a sword and how to defend their own."

"The Prince taught some _farmers_ to fight against _knights_?" Leon visibly did not trust his ears.

"There are a lot of things about Arthur you do not yet know" Gaius replied.

"Well, to Ealdor it will be" Elyan said. "Something better than death we can find anywhere."

Somehow this remark smothered all remaining opposition, as well as the idea of the group splitting up. Even Gwaine offered no more resistance when Elyan gathered his sister's few riches, most of all some jewels and other trinkets, remnants of happier days in Morgana's employ, and what money they both possessed.

When the others made haste to reach the gates in time, Gwaine suddenly vanished. Gaius considered to follow him but then decided to stay with the others, most of all with Gwen. If the young man wanted to risk his neck on a fool's errand that had taken his fancy – let him. The healer could read in Leon's face a similar chain of thoughts.

However, only a few minutes after they had also passed the lower town gates, the nature of Gwaine's last quest as a knight of Camelot became obvious. He caught up with the group on the fine stallion Arthur himself had assigned to him, the other horses from the Prince's stables trotting after him, one white palfrey and Merlin's Blacky among them.

"His most gracious Majesty had forgotten to notify the stable guard of our somewhat sudden dismissal" Gwaine said, the successful prank visibly easing the strain the news of Merlin's death had put on him.

"So we are horse-thieves now" Leon said when he mounted.

"Look at the bright side, _Sir_ Leon" Gwaine replied sarcastically. "Your boots have been made for walking over your enemies, not a dusty road. Besides, one should never look a gift horse in the mouth."

The noble's face showed clearly what he thought of this answer but he kept his silence. Anything was better than an enraged Gwaine; especially if one's own mood was somewhere below the waterline.

Later, on the road, Leon brought his horse near Blacky's side. "Do you have any idea what has really happened to Arthur?" he asked, loud enough for all to hear.

"He's alive for all I know, but he's his father's prisoner" Gaius replied, wincing at the sudden gasps that caused, especially from Guinivere.

"Do you think that Uther will really pull this through? That he'll charge his own son with High Treason?" Lancelot's voice.

"No, definitely not, or he would have done so already. He told me himself that he considers this to be 'a small lesson in discipline and humility', nothing more."

Leon's horse jerked its head when its rider's hand pulled at the bridle angrily. "Do you know where he has been taken?"

Gaius hesitated. These five men had proved to be a formidable fighting force. Undoubtedly any attempt they made to free the Prince had a good chance of success, whatever the odds. But then what? Where should Arthur go? To Camelot? What for? And to what fate?

"Wherever he is, whatever they are doing to him there, he's still much safer in his father's hold than he'd be in Camelot" Gaius finally said, avoiding a straight answer. "Dear Becco has already made one attempt at Arthur's life; as long as he does not know where his Cousin is he cannot make another."

From the others' blank faces it was clear that they had not known about this.

Percival shook his head in fierce anger. "If I had known, the Auvergne would be in need of a new Comte" he gritted through set jaws.

"How could the King ignore this?" Elyan asked. "Blast it, Arthur is his _son_."

"I don't know what Uther made of it. Arthur's injury was not as severe as it had seemed at first."

"It's almost as if I'd never known the King" Leon mused wearily. "He's changed so much in these last months. Ever since…..How could she do this to him? To all of us? I never quite got it."

"Nobody understood what went on in Morgana's soul when she turned against us. And it is of no consequence right now."

"I still think we'd rather search for the Prince" Leon insisted after a while. "Lying low in some peasant village in times like these – it's not especially brave or chivalrous."

"Arthur does not need your chivalry or your exaggerated sense of honour right now; he has to rely on you knowing your duty towards his wife and child" Gaius snapped angrily. "To protect them is your only obligation as long as he cannot do it himself, thanks to his father."

Leon wasn't very happy with this berating but he kept his disfavour to himself. However, over the next few minutes, his horse fell slowly back until Gaius was once more alone with his thoughts.

None of them had much appetite when they finally rested because the horses were exhausted. The healer made sure that Gwen ate something, the others retired to their bedrolls and to their own misery at the first possible moment.

"Gaius? Are you sleeping?" Gwen's voice, coming from somewhere in the dark, was very small and fragile.

"No. I'm not. But you should get some rest, you need it. You both do."

"I need to talk to you."

She was very persistent, persistent enough to find herself curled up next to him a minute later. "I just can't believe that this is happening" she finally said. "One moment everything was fine and the next – what do you think they're doing to Arthur? Do you think they…. Uther wouldn't allow that, would he? I mean, that they really hurt him?"

"_I have no idea_" Gaius wanted to say "_Nothing seems to be beneath this King_." But she would not like to hear it and so he kept silent. However, she got that the wrong way. "Gaius, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to say that Merlin is not important, I…I thought….I meant…"

Instead of an answer Gaius took her in his arms when she began to sob and he desperately wished he could just join her, weep away all the wrath and grief he felt. But he could not. His eyes stayed dry.

It had been on the next morning that they had met the Baron of Ravenclaw, who, besides the story of his escape, also told everyone where Arthur was to be found and that they should join him in Devil's Claw once Bodmin had been defeated.

"That's about it" Gaius now said, looking at Arthur's tensed profile. "I hope you don't begrudge me staying silent about you being brought here. Gwen and the others would have been safer in Ealdor, at least that's what I thought back then."

Arthur could have said a lot of things about the healer's report. About a Prince's tremendous gratitude for an old man's fierce loyalty. Or about what Uther Pendragon considered as a 'small lesson in humility and discipline'. But nothing of this mattered in this moment.

The Prince turned and faced the healer for the first time since they had met on the turret's roof. "You did the right thing, Gaius. I'm pretty sure that not even this bunch would have been able to help me had I still been Bodmin's prisoner, not while he held Devil's Claw. The castle isn't much more than a dogs' kennel, but it is the strongest kennel I know." Wearily he combed his fingers through his hair. "And Bodmin would have loved to gain leverage by keeping Guinivere here. Would have made things much easier for him."

"What did he do to you, Sire? It has been only six days and you look – so very different."

"It wasn't exactly a pleasurable trip. And I found out one or two things about the King of Camelot which aren't very endearing. Anyway, it's much less than I deserve."

Gaius held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

"You see, Gaius, your trust in me was misplaced. When Bodmin arrested me, I was forced to leave Merlin behind; he was alive, but unconscious at the time. But I might as well be called his murderer. It _was_ me who betrayed his secret to the King."


	14. Preparations

**1****4. Preparations**

With an angry outcry Ravenclaw pushed Bodmin against the wall of his cell. "Listen to me, you stupid oaf, I'm offering you the chance of your life here. I've done everything in my power to ensure that the Prince sees you with different eyes. He already suspects me of having murdered your family…"

"You _did_ murder them" Bodmin shouted back. He pulled himself upright and came for his life-long enemy, his situation and its danger completely forgotten. Branguard reached for Ravenclaw, but the Baron stepped aside and evaded him with perfect ease. Bodmin had no idea how it had happened but the next second he found himself in a unbreakable grip, with the Baron's mouth very close to his ear.

"Angus, I regret this, believe me or not, but we don't have time for a nice little chat. I know you hate me and I admit you've every reason to do so. I murdered your folks and I married your betrothed. But this time we are not talking family, we are talking about Albion's future."

With a violent push, Ravenclaw let go of his opponent, who was thrown against the wall again. "Arthur is willing to forgive your foolish behaviour; he's already given me a most royal dressing down on your behalf" the Baron continued. "Play your cards right and he'll forget everything you did, blaming his father for it as he should do by right. Just keep Uther out of his son's hair and away from Devil's Claw and the Druids for as long as possible. Every day Camelot has to carry the burden of so great a number of foreign soldiers and their senseless strive may count."

Bodmin didn't get anything of this. "How should I do that?"

"By thinking carefully of what His Majesty should get to know and what not."

"I do not understand one word of what you're saying."

Ravenclaw rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "Heaven have mercy on the half-wits of this world. Don't worry, Angus, Arthur will know what to do, he's got his mother's character but his father's brains. Just do as he asks and all will be well. For you, for Malcolm and for my wife. Did you know that Uther has had her arrested? I know she still means the world to you."

Slowly the perilous predicament of the two persons he loved most in this world dawned on Branguard. "But what if the King learns about me changing sides? Malcolm is at Court, and if Agnes has been arrested…Uther would have them both killed!"

"You will be the death of me yet one of these days, Angus Branguard. If you do things right, the King will _never_ learn what's going on here until it is too late. For him, I mean, not for you or the others."

"Do you really think it would keep Arthur from destroying our family when he succeeds his father? Malcolm says he will, no matter how angry Uther is with him."

"Yes, Malcolm is right and yes, Arthur will forgive you. Now, just keep that in mind when he comes to you. For once, let me make it up to the Branguards. Use what I've told you and your family _will_ have a future, I promise!"

"Alriand, wait…." Bodmin sprinted towards the door when Ravenclaw left but he was too late; the door slammed shut into his face and left the older Branguard to his confused thoughts.

The guards on the floor in front of the cell were still fast asleep when the Baron met Algernon at the entrance of the dungeons' vault.

"You're off then" the Druid leader said.

"Yes, I can't wait any longer. I have to see her now or she might do something rash again. Our Lady lacks patience. They both do."

"One should think a broken spine would be enough to slow down even her."

"Unfortunately it doesn't."

"She will breathe hell as soon as she sets eyes on you. She had relied on your support before and you let her down."

"That's a risk I have to take."

They had reached the stables by now and Ravenclaw mounted his horse. "Algernon, I know you are sceptic about a rebuilding of the Isle and you are very fond of Arthur. Don't let your feelings meddle with the plan. When the time comes, bring your people to safety and leave anything else to me!"

The Druid smiled without merriness "I will, High Master. As long as you make sure that Emrys will come back to us as our prophecies promised he would. Just as long, remember, you've nothing to fear from us!"

"You do not believe that foolish talk about Emry's death, do you."

"Gaius was a most auspicious adept once. He can't be _that_ rusty."

"You've been eavesdropping again."

"Not more than you, Revered High Master."

"I'm telling you, Emrys is fine. I just had to make sure that he is out of the way for the time being. That's all."

"Out of the way of _what_, High Master? You wanted Arthur to believe that his friend is dead. What else have you in store for the Prince?"

"You just tell Arthur that I am going to meet one of my commanders for reinforcements. My plans are none of your concern. Mind your place, Druid!"

"I will wait, High Master. We are a patient people. But not even our patience is unlimited. The Isle has no claim on Emrys, not even for Nimueh's death. You'd better not forget that, _My Lord Baron_!"

The last words Algernon shouted at Ravenclaw's back, as the warlock had turned his horse around and chased off.

Meanwhile Arthur had finished his tale about the so called hunting trip with his father. "You should hate me, Gaius. Even more than Gwaine does."

The physician breathed much easier since his burden of doubt had been lifted from his mind. "Frankly, I've always been fond of you Arthur, since the day you were born and I see no reason to change that now."

"What on earth for?" the Prince screamed. "I am an imbecile, a weakling, just as Merlin always said – a supercilious prat. Uther has played me, manipulated and used me and I didn't even know until it was too late. If it hadn't been for Merlin I would have married whom the King choose; killed at his say so, made friends at his say so. I'm no knight, no Prince, I'm a stupid lapdog."

"Merlin thought too highly of himself and of his gifts to waste his friendship on a lapdog" Gaius said. "He thought the world of you. You have no right to insult him such."

"I had no right to gamble his life on something as feeble and unreliable as Uther Pendragon's sense of honour or decency" Arthur said softly, his anger spent as suddenly as it had flared up.

"How were you to know? He is your _father_; you couldn't just sit there and watch him die!"

"One day I will" Arthur said with a cold resolve that sent chills down Gaius' spine. "I swear it, I'll kill him with my own hands, even if it is the last thing I'll ever do."

"No you will not!" Gaius jumped to his feet in utter horror. "Arthur, listen to me. It was Merlin's destiny to make you the great King you are meant to be. You will not…..don't you dare turn away from me, Arthur Pendragon, not whilst I'm still talking to you!"

The Prince gasped in surprise when he suddenly felt that his body couldn't move at all. He looked at Gaius just in time to see the last golden light fade away in his eyes. Preoccupied with his anger and shame, Arthur had simply accepted the old man's tale about tracking spells and wooden dragons, but only now the shock of Gaius using magic really hit home.

"You will _not_ allow Uther's idiocy to meddle with that, you hear me?" the old man meanwhile shouted. "You will not throw away everything for an absurd vendetta against your own father. Helping you to become a just and fair King was the purpose of Merlin's life. You _owe_ it to him."

"Gaius, if you please…"

"Besides" the healer rambled on, ignoring the meek objection, "you are going to be a father yourself in five months time. What about the child and its mother if you get yourself killed?"

"Let go of me, Gaius. My leg's deadening already."

With a last impatient huff, the healer let his spell expire and Arthur furtively put his foot back on the ground. At first he had no idea of what to say. Finally he said the first thing that came to his mind. "That was the severest lecture you've ever given me, Gaius."

"Stop the moronic talk or I'll give you another!"

Arthur felt an embarrassing lump in his throat and searched for an escape route. "Maybe I should look for Guinivere" he muttered.

"Maybe you should've done that ages ago."

The Prince felt his cheeks grow hot and he hurried past his old friend for the exit, but Gaius grabbed his arm forcefully. "Arthur, promise me. No more of these foolish thoughts. Please."

"All right, I promise" the Prince said and Gaius let him walk away although he knew that this had not been a sincere commitment at all. Once more the physician silently cursed the King with all his heart before he slumped down on the roof again. He was worn out and in the next fifteen minutes no one would kill anyone. Or so he hoped.

The Prince went to his room first, assuming that Guinivere would be there, and she was, not knowing whether to smile or to cry when he came to her. "I'm so sorry, love" he whispered. "So very sorry for everything. Please forgive me."

"It's not you who should be sorry" she said softly. "Sim wanted to help me stowing a few things away and…I found these. I've read them. I know I shouldn't have pried into them, but…."

With a sinking heart Arthur recognized the parchments he had tucked away in the desk's drawer only last night.

She hugged him tightly and buried her nose in his shoulder. "He had no right to write this" she muttered. "He had no right to do any of this, not to you, to me or the others. And not to Merlin. He just had no right."

Arthur felt her warmth against his body, her softly protruding belly against his waist and something hard and cold inside him just gave way. How they both had finally ended up in the bed he'd never know, but for the next few hours nothing mattered but her soft skin, her mouth and what she said when she had a chance to say anything in between.

Knights, healers and Druids – they all came and went away again while Sim stood guard at the door like a smaller version of Cerberus himself, having the time of his life. Algernon was the only one who smiled and ruffled his tribesman's hair when Sim turned him away.

It was only much later in the day that the magic-blind Druid let a somewhat subdued Sir Gwaine cross the sacred threshold.

"Oh. Gwen."

"Yes, it's me. Was that all?" she said while she tried to tame the waves of her hair.

"Where's Arthur?"

"Not at my dressing table."

Sim guffawed in the back of the room.

"Look, I know I'm in your bad books presently but…"

"Whatever gave you that idea? Naturally a man who has sworn allegiance to Arthur only to accuse him of murdering our closest friend is most welcome to me, any time."

Gwaine closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Blast it, where's Arthur? Gaius said I should talk to him."

"And here I was, thinking that for once you might have had an epiphany moment of your own making." Gwen let her hands fall to the table. "_Gods, I sound like Morgana"_ she thought. "_Does that come with a silk gown and a dressing table?_"

"Sim, show this most noble knight the way" she said and the young Druid hurried zealously to the door.

Gwaine hesitated; then he implied something like a bow to her back and made a strategic retreat. "See you later" he said.

"Must I?" she answered and he virtually shot out of the door.

They found Arthur on his way to the dungeons. Much belatedly the Prince had remembered the outstanding but inevitable conversation with the Earl of Bodmin. Surely Uther would be waiting with some impatience for the first report from Devil's Claw.

"Arthur, wait."

Pendragon turned and his face, that had not shown much joy from the start, darkened even more. It would have needed Merlin's intimate knowledge of the Prince's temper to know that these revengeful features meant that Arthur was mad at himself, not at his counterpart.

On the other hand, for all his genuine fondness of Merlin's best friend, Gwaine had never taken Arthur very seriously. The quest for the golden trident, the knighting ceremony, the pompous 'how-do-I-motivate-my-men-for-a-fight' speeches – it had all seemed a bit giggly to Gwaine's worldly-wise, derisive and a few years older eyes.

When Pendragon furiously glared at him now while his hand pointedly went to the sword hilt, Gwaine lost his flippant smile that had been meant to hide his own embarrassment. "Whoa, Arthur, slowly with that. I came to apologize, not to fight."

"What for?"

"_Merlin, how could a nice young man like you end up with a fire-breathing hot head like him_? _Heavens, he looks likes his father_." Gwaine thought. "What is an apology for usually? I accused you wrongly of having had a hand in Merlin's death, I was at fault with that and I'm telling you I was. End of story."

"Who told you I was _not_ responsible for his death?"

"Gaius did. And if somebody has the right to be the judge of that, it's him."

Gwaine relaxed a bit when Arthur gave up something of his tensed stance. "Very well, you can tell Gaius I am most obliged and indebted to him. As always."

With that, Arthur turned round and left Gwaine standing.

"This didn't go very well, did it?" the reluctant knight and nobleman in disguise said.

"No, it did not. He doesn't like you. And she does not either!" Sim stated, and he sounded very satisfied about it. Before Gwaine could say something in reply, Sim ran after his new master towards the vault's stairway. He had no idea whether he was wanted there but he'd rather risk a good thrashing than miss out on any of these exciting events.

Gwaine shrugged with much more indifference than he really felt and went to join the others for dinner. At the thought of meeting Leon and his accusing face there, he sighed. "_What is it about some people's ability to make friends __hand over fist and my ability to make enemies?_" he thought miserably. As his appetite had completely deserted him all of a sudden, he decided to join Gaius instead, looking for some opportunity to commiserate with him about the only friend _he_ had ever had.

As Gwaine had made up his mind, Arthur was still thinking about the best way to approach his ex-captor. To his utter surprise, he found Bodmin most obliging and open to all suggestions.

The wretched Earl had been fretting ever since Ravenclaw had left him. He had not been able to make head or tail of what the Baron had said and the barely veiled threats against his loved ones – that was what he had heard anyway, threats - made his head spin even wilder. So when Arthur suggested that he may write to the King that all was well and going as Uther had planned it, Branguard felt an urge to kiss the Prince's feet. At least now he knew what he was meant to do and Ravenclaw's mysterious words, that had confused things more than they had cleared them, lost much of their dread.

Pendragon for his part, profoundly relieved that this went so well so easily, got somewhat carried away, ensuring his former opponent of his eternal goodwill and favour for the Earl's person and for the Branguard family as a whole. They parted almost as friends.

Since Bodmin had given his parole, Arthur even took it on himself to speak to Sir Gryffyd about some decent quarters for the Earl and his men. Neither Bodmin nor the Prince wasted a thought on the fact that, if things had went as the Earl had thought they would, the question of 'decent quarters' instead of incarceration for the captive in question would not have come up.

It needed Sir Gryffyd's rough comment on Arthur's benevolent plans to remind his Prince of that indelicate little detail. Unfortunately the old knight had full knowledge of all the King's orders, for himself and for the King's son, and his attitude towards an aristocrat of high rank who had nevertheless stooped to carry out these abominations was accordingly.

"The first thing I gathered from the King's orders was that the Crown Prince of Camelot was to be taken to the dungeons the moment he arrived, no parole, no consideration and surely no mercy was intended. Now the next thing Your Highness will ask me to do is to give this vile creature my own bed, is it not?" the old knight snarled angrily.

"Surely not, Sir Gryffyd but…."

"It makes my blood boil that Your Highness should even waste your time on this wimpy chicken-shit. So if it is the Prince's wish, _I_ can find My Lord Earl and his so called noble knights a place in the old barracks. I had them renovated with the money you sent to me. We have made do with the means as best we could and had your father not lost his mind, we could have brought Devil's Claw back to its former strength, making it a stronghold for the protection of all the settlers who've come here, just as Your Highness had wished it to be."

Dear Gods, the money!

Arthur's blood froze. The allotment notes were not debated by the Council but passed by the ruler's clerk, to be registered in the treasurer's books. As they had not been in the Council papers or the registries, Malcolm surely had not disposed of them, he wouldn't even have thought of them. If Matilda, thorough and dedicated as she obviously was, should come around to checking the treasurer's accounts…

"_She can hardly know what these accounts mean_" the Prince inwardly tried to persuade himself. "_The allotment notes do not name the purpose of the payments; Malcolm said the copy of my order to Gryffyd is gone for good_."

"Thank you, Sir Gryffyd, I knew I could rely on you. Thank you very much."

"No need to thank me, Your Highness. With all due respect, Devil's Claw still is _my_ command and you should have left these things to me in the first place."

"You're right of course. I am sorry."

Gryffyd nodded curtly, still looking more than a bit grumpy and Arthur decided to leave him to his business. No need to burden the old warrior's mind with further worries, not when he had to accommodate Ravenclaw's squadron, the Prince and his friends – and future wife – and now Bodmin and his escort in barracks and quarters that were mostly in shambles, as the castle's garrison had hardly had more than five or six men in the last ten years.

The Prince was so distracted by his own worries about the damned allotment notes that he forgot to ask where Gryffyd himself was now sleeping, as he had given his quarters up to Arthur.

Watching the Prince leave, the old knight spat out contemptuously. "What the hell should you be sorry for, lad, aye?" he muttered rancorously "If things had gone as you had wanted them to, we'd all be off the hook by now for good. Blast King Uther. Bloody idiot. Must be his age."

Gryffyd, 10 years the King's senior, bellowed his last orders for the day at some unfortunate soldiers and servants and as a result, Bodmin and his men would be rather comfortable in the renovated barracks.

Finally the castle commander and a lot of his men carried their own beddings into the hay barn.

Much later that night, Ravenclaw reined in his mare when he spotted the old castle ruin in the midst of a dense, long since abandoned woodland. He had taken the utmost care that nobody had followed him and yet he checked his surroundings one last time. Nothing. Nobody. Just as it should be.

He started the incantation and waited for the draw bridge to become visible that would allow access to the castle, which really was anything but an abandoned ruin. However, his spell accomplished nothing. Angrily muttering he concentrated his power and tried again. Nothing.

He made ready for a third attempt when he suddenly felt his neck tickle, a split second before a sword point pressed into his skin.

"Look whom we have here" a female voice softly purred into his ear. "If this isn't Camelot's Council Chairman."

"You must have been practising day and night, My Lady" he replied calmly, if somewhat tensed. "To transport oneself on a horse without even startling the animal shows great talent."

"What brings you here, Ravenclaw?" Morgana's soft voice seemed to drip venom. "Or how should I address you these days? Alriand du Lac, maybe? Or by your real name, Armand of Morgwyn."

"I see your Lady Sister has told you a thing or two."

"It wasn't your doing that she was alive to do it."

"But it was your doing that almost got her killed."

The next thing he felt was her sword cutting into the skin of his throat, drawing blood. "Say that again, old man, and I'll have your head for it!"

Morgana yelped in surprise and pain when the sword hilt was suddenly wrenched out of her hand forcibly and the blade hurled away into the brushwood, while she was thrown off the horse's back with some force.

"You may have learned a lot from your sister, my girl, but not enough to overthrow me. I have been a Prince of the Isle long before you were born." The sorcerer knew his voice was ringing and echoing from the rows of trees around them, because that was what he had wanted.

And yet, Morgana never even flinched. "And lots of good it did me or my sister that you once _were_ a Prince of the Isle. You abandoned it when it was besieged; you betrayed it after it had fallen, you even became its destroyer's lapdog. Nothing has changed since then. You saw we would fail and yet you did not lift a finger to help us."

"I saw _you_ fail, Morgana, not your sister. You could not have kept Camelot for a month, let alone a year or longer. _I_ have a plan that will make you Queen for the rest of your life, but for that I need your sister's consent and cooperation. Now let me in."

"Like hell I will! You are not worth to be in the same room with her."

"I am a High Master and I will see the High Priestess whenever I want to, is that clear?"

She blocked his first two blows, which astounded him more than he cared to admit, but his third attack hit her with full force and knocked her out before the four blood guards that ran to her aid reached him and dragged him off his horse.

"You will have to answer to Her Ladyship herself for this outrage against her sister."

"At last" Ravenclaw replied. "I had began thinking you'd never come. What on earth took you so long?"

When he had to face Morgause a few minutes later, his surety and confidence faltered somewhat. She was lying on a daybed, in a splendid dress, as beautiful as she had always been; the fact that she could no longer walk or move more than her arms and head was almost unbelievable for one who could sense her strength and fierce passion with every fibre of his own soul.

Old habits kicked back in and without thinking Armand of Morgwyn went down on one knee and bowed his head to his superior. "Most Revered Lady. Your humble servant is much honoured to be in your presence once more."

"You have dared to touch my sister. I will not forgive that. So spare us both the unworthy show of submission. Besides, I am not Nimueh. Flattering me with a title that is not mine will not save your neck."

"I know you neither craved her title nor her power, Morgause. You've always been most faithful to her, but Nimueh is dead. All attempts to bring her back from the shadows of Avalon have failed. As the last surviving High Priestess of the Isle, you _are_ our Most Revered Lady. And as such, you are obliged to hear me out."

"Let's just pretend for a moment that I am willing to be Nimueh's successor to a throne that no longer exists, to a power that is slowly forgotten and a past that's fading away – be a High Master for the last time in your miserable life and say what you have to say. I want to put the stench of you behind me and my sister."

He took that with a calm face, calmer than his pride actually felt. "I have a plan that'll bring your sister the throne of Camelot and the Isle of the Blessed back to life and into power for all eternity to come – if you and Morgana will do as I say."

Morgause chuckled softly and shook her head. "Come on mastermind, crush me. What could a measly little traitor like you do that I could not?"

"You went about it the wrong way from the start. With all due respect, My Lady. Ignoring the legends about Camelot was a mistake you should have avoided."

Intrigued against her will, Morgause pricked her ears. Armand saw it and he smiled lightly; a rock was lifted from his soul. Trust Her Ladyship to pursue a higher cause – usually a euphemism for other people's interest – with a will. She had always reminded him of somebody else he knew, at least on that score.

"You thought you'd be forced to kill both father and son to make your sister Queen of Camelot. What if I had solemn proof that this was a cardinal error of judgement?"

That got Morgause's attention for a very long time and after those long hours she sent the blood guards away for good.

"You have my blessings, High Master Morgwyn. And my sister and I will do as you say. But don't get me wrong. If this plans fails and my sister gets hurt again – I will find you. And I will make you regret your idiocy."

"I would expect nothing less, Most Revered Lady. However, I think I should make some kind of amends to your Lady Sister. Would you give her this with my most sincere apologies and my respect?"

He pulled a velvet case from his pocket and opened it for her inspection. Morgause touched the delicate necklace the open lid revealed. "It's beautiful" she said "but I fear Morgana doesn't fancy onyx or sapphires very much…."

She broke off when she sensed the magic the necklace possessed and her original distrust of the man in front of her returned with a vengeance. "What is this? What are you trying to do to my sister?"

"Feel the magic, My Lady. You will see that it is not meant to harm."

Unwilling to seem anxious as well as unwilling to be led on by him like that, Morgause reluctantly touched the flawless diamond pendant again with the tips of her fingers. "It's….warm" she said. "Gentle. It's alive!"

"Doesn't it remind you of something? What about the bracelet you once gave to your sister? The one that made her nightmares vanish?"

"You're right. It also felt…sentient when I found it. Friendly. Caring. And very soothing. That's why I chose it for her."

"Druid magic, was it not?"

"Yes. I got it from a small treasure that had once been the tribute of a mighty Druid community, centuries ago."

"This necklace is a kind of supplement to the bracelet. There is so much anger, hurt and despair in Morgana's heart. She loves nothing and nobody but you anymore. And even your company is sometimes unendurable for her. Is that not so?"

Morgause swallowed hard. "Yes" she said. "It's none of your concern. But as you obviously felt it in her when you came, I have no reason to deny it."

"I guarantee the necklace will change her heart" he gently replied. "That's what it is meant for. Her hatred and the rashness that it caused have spoiled your plans to conquer her rightful place on the throne before. It shall not happen again. The necklace will bring back her ability to love and be loved. I know that it will."

She let her own magic flow and encompass the jewels. The sensation was…enthralling. She felt power in them, and strength, but nothing threatening or harmful. Suddenly, more instinctively than by a conscious thought, she decided to trust them – and the man who had brought them to her.

"Very well then" Morgause said. "I will give the necklace to Morgana, with your respects. If she accepts it, you may see this gift as a token of the allegiance you owe her."

"Very well, My Lady. Thank you."

"You can thank me when you have been successful. Only then we will decide if you'll have something to be grateful for."

"Most Revered Lady!" Armand bowed one last time and took his leave.

Once outside the castle he looked back at its alleged shambles and sighed deeply. "_Emrys_" he thought passionately. "_For your own sake, for Arthur's sake, for all of Albion – you've loved her once. Don't let her down again_!"


	15. Fool's paradise

**15. Fool's paradise**

Uther Pendragon circled the desk in his study. It was one of the very rare occasions in which he was irresolute and unsure of what to do next. He knew he ought to work through the various reports which had come in this morning and yet he could not bring himself to actually start working.

The documents added to the already precariously towering heap of reports that had begun to pour in almost as soon as the thousand men from the Auvergne had first reached Camelot.

Complaints, accusations of misconduct, pleas for being spared the duty of delivering more vitals, more leather, more cloth, more of each and anything – if one believed these reports, Camelot was stretched to her very limits with keeping these additional troops fed, clothed, shod, housed, armed and the Gods knew what else these 1000 men needed.

Uther frowned, irritated by his thoughts. When he had asked for the Gaulish troops he had not thought to invite a bunch of ragged beggars to fatten themselves at Camelot's expense but now it seemed Hortensius' men were doing exactly that and not much else.

To put it bluntly, Becco's soldiers were eating and drinking – and whoring – their hosts out of house and home after only four months. And as to their entertainment – they seemed to have a regrettable tendency to mistake decent citizens' homes and womenfolk for the next brothel.

Frankly, the vexed King could no longer deny it – his people's original willingness to endure the foreign hordes as a necessary evil had mostly vanished and was not very likely to come back. Never before Camelot had known so many cases of tax evasions or embezzlements. Thrice in the last month Gaulish soldiers had been sandbagged and almost killed. The culprits were yet to be found.

Uther hit his fist against the window frame when he remembered that these attacks had cost Camelot three more knights who had resigned their commission because they had no wish to 'persecute their own people'.

Aldrich, one of Uther's youngest knights, the one and only son of a very distinguished family, had simply refused to take over Sir Leon's liege as 'not to taint his knightly honour'. It could no longer be denied that Camelot's nobility did not take well to their King's measures and that there was much dissatisfaction even in the highest circles with having the foreign troops around.

On the other hand, Hortensius' frequent patrols into Druid territory had had preciously little effect at all. A dozen executions for – alleged – sorcery, based mostly on hearsay were hardly the impressive victory over the magic evil doers that was needed to win back the aggravated citizens' favour.

And for all of Becco's efforts, neither a sign of the Druid tribes nor of Morgana or her sister had been found.

Biting his lip and unwittingly rubbing his eyes Uther remembered the people's' reactions at the last execution. The wretched woman had not been able to walk to the pyre; she had been carried by two soldiers. It had been obvious that she had been tortured on the rack and that was a sight Camelot's citizens weren't used to. Pendragon justice had always been swift and often lethal, but torture, if ever, had been very rarely a part of it.

And it had all been for nothing, that was the most annoying part. Four days in the torture chamber and yet the poor creature had not breathed a word about the Ladies of the Isle or about the vanished Druid tribes.

The resentful looks and the angry outcries of his people when she had screamed herself to death on the pyre fresh in mind, the King had not signed another warrant for the rack since then.

However, Uther carried a heavy burden of mortification that he, albeit only secretly, should have backed down. Inwardly cursing and rambling, he now shook his head. He had started the second purge, as well as Arthur's secret arrest, as a means to regain a firm hold over his Kingdom. But it had been just the other way round, Camelot was slipping away from him, he could _feel _it.

It was time. High time to end this. He would call it a mistake inwardly and a victory officially, and then he'd let the second purge die a silent and unobtrusive death. Hortensius and his soldiers would be sent home with all honours – and some fat purses.

It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth losing his Kingdom and it most surely wasn't worth losing his son. To hell with Morgana. The ungrateful, treacherous wretch was more than justly punished by being homeless, a vagabond, no place to rest, no place to stay. It was enough, Uther now thought.

Somehow these last four months had done much to calm his thirst for revenge. Softly at first, then louder a little voice had begun nagging at the King, asking him if he was still sure that this revenge was a worthy goal, whether it was worth ruining his Kingdom's coffers for a foreign army that was a damn nuisance while it achieved nothing at all.

This annoying little voice became louder in some special places of the citadel. In the still deserted infirmary, for example. In the equally abandoned Knights' quarters. In the archives, when Geoffrey made haste to leave the room as soon as his King entered it.

Or in the Crown Prince's chambers.

_Especially_ in the Crown Prince's chambers.

When ever the King passed them by he expected to see Arthur or hear his voice. Every time realization that his child was no longer there hit him like a blow.

Uther rummaged through the documents and pulled out the well hidden reports from Devil's Claw. It was useless to read them, he knew Bodmin's words by heart and yet he somehow felt closer to his son when he browsed through them again.

The Earl had a somewhat flowery way to express himself but the meaning of his reports was abundantly clear. Arthur had resigned to his fate. Where Branguard originally had complained of much resistance, accusations and lots of quarrels with his troublesome prisoner, the Prince now seemed to be an example of modesty and restraint. Obviously the young man had come to his senses.

Uther congratulated himself. At least one part of his plan had shown the hoped-for results. Maybe it was time to plan the next steps in this affair, though. Now that his son had seen reason it would surely not be amiss to come Arthur's way a step or two. Just to show the boy that he was on the right path, so to speak.

Having thought so far, the King rose and renewed his original pacing. After all, this couldn't go on to all eternity. All right, so he had thought that Arthur would never forgive his father for what he had done. But now things looked different, didn't they? A full reconciliation was still possible, nay, most probable. His boy was no idiot, never had been. So what about some ill chosen people having clouded Arthur's judgement for a while. After all this time to reflect on things, his son would be most grateful for an opportunity to make amends to his father.

And about time, too. Already several Members of the Council had discretely approached their King about the question of naming a new heir, should the Crown Prince be lost to them. At the same time, reports of nasty rumours among the people had reached Uther's always pricked ears, especially from the Lower Town. People no longer believed in the story of a Prince being kidnapped by evil Druids. More and more those who had believed the King to be the driving force behind the Prince's disappearance were afloat again, while those who believed in Uther's innocence became more silent every day.

There was nothing for it. Arthur had to come back to Camelot and he had to come back soon, before the fabric of the Pendragon rule was ripped apart at the seams.

Naturally, timing was of the essence. First of all, Hortensius and his lot had to be out of the way. Then King Uther himself would lead an expedition to Devil's Claw that would end with the Crown Prince's triumphant return to Camelot, at his father's side, and all the tribulations of the past would soon be forgotten.

Uther didn't worry that Arthur could refuse to play along with this. Surely a bit of play-acting was a small prize for being released from captivity in this dirt-hole. He hadn't raised his son to feel comfortable while being locked-up in a pig-sty. Besides, Arthur would have other things to occupy his mind. With the experience of four months of isolation in the back of his head, even the stubborn mule he had for a son would yield to his father's suggestions for a good marriage, especially as this wretched servant girl was gone for good.

Really, it was the perfect moment to change tack.

With his mind finally made up, Pendragon began a letter to the Earl of Bodmin, explaining his intentions and the necessary preparations. Malcolm Branguard was due to relieve his brother anyway; he could take the letter.

All things conspired to bring this whole ghastly business to a good and happy ending; of that the King felt surer and surer with every passing moment.

While writing, Uther involuntarily rubbed his aching stomach and chest. He made a mental note to ask Matilda for another bottle of this potion of hers. It seemed to be the only thing that could give him any relief these days. A curse on Gaius that he should have run away like an insulted child. And without cause. It was too damned stupid of him, for sure.

Uther's illness had begun within two days after Hortensius' troops had reached Camelot. At first the King had thought nothing of it. It was only natural that the bitter necessity of being forced against one's will to have one's beloved son arrested would take a heavy toll on one's health. If Arthur only knew what this arrest had cost his father, the boy would be devastated by guilt and remorse.

However, when the pains got stronger and forced him to his bed, Uther had begun to worry a bit. With his affairs being in the precarious stand in which they were, he couldn't afford to lie down and rest.

Funny though, that Matilda should have been the one to worry about a serious heart attack. When he had married her off to the Auvergne many decades ago she had accused Uther of having no heart at all. But now, she had been his good angel in that strenuous time, her brother had to admit.

The King thought of his sister much more fondly these days. Without her constant care, her remedies and her patient listening and encouragement, things would have been much harder to endure, especially the torturing absence of his son. Uther had had no idea how much he had come to rely on Arthur's support and ability to take over more and more of his father's work over the years.

"_Really_" Pendragon now thought "_I have to think of something to cushion the blow when telling Matilda that she should return to the Auvergne. That's the least she deserves_."

Uther looked at the letter to Bodmin he had just finished and found it well done. All the necessary information was there, as well as the strict order that the father would break the news to his son himself. Uther wasn't fool enough to let somebody else tell Arthur that his captivity was over and that he was allowed to come home. That pleasure the King reserved to himself.

With a swift movement Uther covered the letter and the report from Devil's Claw with some other documents when he heard a typical knock at his door. "Enter!" he snapped, angry that he was to be disturbed in his daydreaming of how he would break the good news to his remorseful son.

"Good Morning, dear brother" Matilda said cheerfully. "You're up early. I'm bringing you your medicine."

With barely hidden greed the King grabbed the small phial and emptied it with one gulp. At times, these cramps could be a real menace. He sighed with relief when the pains ceased, as they always did after taking Matilda's potions, only to return with a vengeance when the remedy's effect wore off after a few hours.

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes, thank you Matilda. You're an angel. I'd be completely lost without you."

The Comtess smiled broadly. "Never mind, Uther. I only wish I could aid you more in these horrible times. While we are at it, dear brother, I've found those receipts in the exchequer's registries and I had hoped you could tell me what they are about. They are a bit of a mystery to me..."

Inwardly moaning and wishing her tampering with Camelot's state affairs to hell the King cast a fleeting and bored glance at the notes she handed him. When he found Devil's Claw mentioned he scrutinized the notes more thoroughly. With increasing nervousness he read the receipts, one by one until he fell back into his seat. His vision blurred and his breathing became ragged while his chest seemed to be tightened and squeezed painfully by a giant hand. To the last of the receipts a note was attached in Geoffrey's careful hand. "_To be registered with the Crown Prince's order for the resettlement and equipment of the Druid tribes in the forests and lands __around Devil's Claw."_

Frantically the King went over the notes again, adding up the single payments in his head and reaching a sum that, in his enraged state of mind, seemed to be a King's ransom. These woods had to be swarming with Druids and sorcerers by now; hundreds, even thousands of Uther Pendragon's mortal enemies surrounded the stronghold in which he had thought his rebellious, misguided son to be safely locked away.

It occurred to the King that a thing like that could not have been done by the Prince Regent alone. This was a far reaching conspiracy. It had to be. Arthur and the Crown Council had been planning to overthrow the lawful King at the first convenient moment. Why else should the Crown Prince have allied himself with the filthy bunch of sorcerers, hiding them in the most forsaken, most remote part of Camelot?

"My own son" Uther muttered to himself without even knowing it. "Oh heavens, my boy. My boy. My own son..."

Matilda watched the King's anguish with narrowed eyes. Behind her sympathetic face she was expectant, full of hope. She had thought these notes would have an effect on her paranoid brother but this exceeded her most optimistic expectations.

"Uther, what is it?" she now asked, concern and worry dripping from her voice and face. "Do you feel poorly again? Uther?"

"It is nothing" he whispered. "Nothing to concern yourself about, my dear. Please, Matilda, would you fetch Geoffrey for me. Be quick about it."

Fifteen minutes after Geoffrey had been brought in by two Auvergne guard soldiers, Uther knew everything, even that the Council Papers about this conspiracy had been stolen and destroyed by Malcolm Branguard.

After that, the arrest of the Lord of Saltyre was a mere formality. As were the warrants for the other members of the Crown Council.

Hortensius, to his mother's hidden pleasure, was informed that his troops, and his alone, should take over the security of citadel and town, all remaining knights and soldiers who had once been under Arthur's command were stripped of their rank and confined to their quarters until further notice.

The interrogations began immediately.

The last surprise of the day was that Malcolm of Saltyre was the first to yield to the King's threats and allegations. Confronted with the loss of all their family estates and fortunes as well as with banishment for life, Malcolm knew instantly that his brother would not survive so deep a fall twice in his life. Therefore the younger Branguard desperately tried to whitewash Angus, taking all the guilt and responsibility on himself, confirming everything Uther conjured up, deliberately, willingly talking himself all the way up to the gallows for his brother's' sake – and for Arthur's.

No matter what would become of the two Pendragons in the end, neither the present nor the future King should hold a grudge against the older Branguard, not if Malcolm could avoid it. Saltyre even went as far as to imply that he had, with the Council's help, pressed an unwilling Prince into the Druid alliance, against much original resistance.

The condemning fact that Arthur had never been a prisoner in Devil's Claw in the first place Malcolm could not have revealed anyway, even if he had wanted to. At Ravenclaw's unwanted but clever advice, Angus had kept that from his younger brother as much as from everybody else.

However, Malcolm's ruses did nothing to convince the King of his son's innocence. The thought that Arthur had betrayed him as much as Morgana had done had taken firm roots in Uther's mind. Silently, viciously the idea that, as his daughter had betrayed him his son was no longer reliable either, had been growing in the King's soul, in spite of all his better judgement. Now this confirmation of his worst fears was the final straw that broke the camel's back, burying all of Uther's genuine love and trust for his son and heir beneath it.

Late in the evening the King returned to his study and slumped into a chair. In the fading light of day he looked at his letter to Bodmin, the letter he had written with so much joyful anticipation in his heart. Every word seemed to speak of his love for his son.

"My boy" he whispered again. "Oh Gods, Arthur...Arthur. Oh Gods, my son..."

So he had lost them both, for no fault of his. Had there been anything, _anything_ at all he had not done for his children? Any care, any consideration his son or daughter had not had? Had he not loved them, pampered them, done everything for them? Why then did they betray him like that? _Why_?

Finally his misery overwhelmed him. Amongst all his splendour, all his finery the King of Camelot let his head fall on his desk and cried for his lost son, his daughter and for being utterly, unendurably abandoned and alone.

Matilda listened to her brother's sobs from behind the door. Not one cry, not one desperate exclamation escaped her. She knew _exactly_ how Uther felt. She had felt like that when he had destroyed her life all these years ago. Now she relished in her late revenge.

What did it matter that her glee had to stay silent? She enjoyed it all the more for the fact that it was completely hers.

When her brother came to her in the deep of night and told her all his plans she was all sympathy and understanding itself. In her comforting arms Uther finally ran out of tears. She acted so very surprised at what he told her, he had no reason to guess that she had searched his desk the moment he had went to the dungeons, that she had found Bodmin's reports and the King's letter to the Earl, that she had known everything he told her in advance.

It didn't occur to Uther that her understanding was unnatural for someone who, among other things, had to hear that for all her loving care and loyal support he had meant to cast her away; send her packing like a servant who was no longer useful.

At last, with the exhausted King sleeping in his bed, this time with a real remedy and not one of his sister's variety of slowly working poisons in his guts, Matilda enlightened her son as to what had happened and what were Uther's new plans.

The next day saw a change of the act of succession and Hortensius' accession to the title of Crown Prince as well as a fiery speech about the finally revealed plot of Arthur and the Druids against the realm and the people of Camelot. The former Crown Prince was punished 'in absentia' with outlawry and a warrant for him being brought back to Camelot dead or alive was officially proclaimed.

For once Uther was blind and deaf to his people's reactions. For once he had no clue of their talking about his renewed madness; for once he was utterly oblivious of his Barons and other notables, those that had not yet been arrested, making ready to leave for their estates – and their own troops. They left the citadel as rats would leave a sinking ship, while a flood of accusations, distrust and old feuds swept over the realm that destroyed the very foundation of mutual trust and allegiance Camelot had been built on.

When he left the castle two days later, the King of Camelot had no idea whatsoever that he had gambled his life's work away. That he most probably would have no Kingdom to return to when he came back. Instead Uther, at the head of seven hundred of Becco's men, together with his new Crown Prince, Matilda and a desperate Malcolm Branguard in his tow, had every confidence that he would crush his only son's infant rebellion to dust.


	16. A most gallant enterprise

**16. A ****most gallant enterprise**

Ravenclaw reined in his exhausted horse directly in front of Algernon who, in spite of being threatened by the powerful animal's prancing hooves, did not even flinch. "My Lord Baron. What an unexpected pleasure to see you in our humble dwellings."

"The pleasure is entirely with you. What the hell are you still doing here, you stupid idiot? A day ago I told you to take your people to the hill caves. They are protected by a warden spell; Uther's men will never find you there. Or don't you trust my magic to conjure up a childish spell like that?"

"It's not your magic I'm distrustful of; it's you and your plans. Almost two hundred of my people I sent into Devil's Claw two days ago, also on your command. They _are_ my concern, now that Uther's troops are only hours away from the stronghold!"

Ravenclaw groaned impatiently, clearly at the end of his tether. "I told you to choose these two hundred carefully. Until now it was my impression that you have done so. It's your other tribesmen you have to think of now."

Algernon swallowed hard. "You are going to sacrifice them, together with Prince Arthur and his friends. That's why I had to choose only those of my people who were born without magic. I knew I should never have trusted you, you filthy pig."

The moment he had said that, the Druid felt his throat constrict and his lungs lost the ability to breathe. "I give you one last chance, moron, to mind your place and do as I ask" the High Master hissed. "If you don't, you and your young friends here can join the two hundred on their death march. It will make King Uther's day if he has captured not only some wretched, insignificant creatures together with his son but also a Druid Chief of high rank and some of his most powerful magicians."

"Why are you doing this?" Algernon asked desperately as soon as he regained his voice. "You change sides so often, do you still know on whose side you are right now?"

"Believe it or not, Algernon, I've never changed sides. My objective has always been the same; the resurrection of magic and of the Old Religion. For that, sacrifices are unavoidable. Now _go_, before I have to count you among these sacrifices."

The Druid lowered his head and turned away. "I would like to say that the Great Mother should bless you, High Master. But I will not blaspheme on a day that will see so much injustice and bloodshed among Her children."

A minute later he and his young followers had vanished, blended in with the forest as if they had never existed.

The High Master briefly closed his eyes and sighed with relief. "May Her blessings be with _you_, you fool. You've always been far too honourable for your own good" he muttered under his breath before he turned his horse back towards Devil's Claw. There the last great part in this drama was waiting for him. After that, hopefully, the Sir du Lac, Baron of Ravenclaw, could be laid to rest for good and Armand of Morgwyn could finally reclaim his life.

As he had expected, Arthur was impatiently waiting for him. "You surely took your time, My Lord Baron. What kept you?"

"I had to make sure that no danger is threatening our people in the woodlands. I met with some of my men who brought me news from Camelot. As it seems, your father has more than enough problems of his own. He will not trouble us any time soon. However, your beloved Cousin Becco has restarted his patrols into the eastern hinterlands, around the hill caves, and I would think it wise to evacuate the handful of Druid families we have resettled there a month ago."

Arthur's shoulders sank for a moment. "Even a handful of families would stretch our resources to the limits. The castle can't take on any more people. We are overcrowded by the two hundred who are already here."

"We will find a way to feed and shelter the evacuees as soon as they are here, My Prince. For the time being, as we can replenish on our way, it'll spare you at least fifty hungry mouths to be fed if I take my squadron out now."

"As well as reduce our garrison to ten able men, me, Sir Gryffyd and the 20 men from the Bodmin and Saltyre escorts." Arthur shrugged angrily. "_Who knows where their loyalty lies when their master sees a chance to get the upper hand against my few men?_" he mused and Ravenclaw needed no mind reading abilities to know the Prince's thoughts. Bodmin's will to play along had much more to do with Ravenclaw's squadron than with a genuine friendship between Earl and Prince, how ever friendly their commerce might seem.

"With Your Highness' permission I would like to take the Branguard men, too" the Baron replied. "It'll save your resources here as well as make sure that I can keep an eye on them while my men and I are away."

Arthur pondered that for a minute. "I trust you do not take this as an opportunity to have it out with your old adversary."

The Baron shook his head. "Your Highness has my word on our feud being deferred for now. I see no reason to go back on that."

The Prince looked into the Baron's face. It sounded all fairly reasonable, he finally decided. "You do as you see fit, Ravenclaw. As long as we can keep all our friends save, it's a worthy enough cause."

Ravenclaw bit his lip and for a moment his easy victory mortified him. It took considerable effort to remember that what he had seen of the future left him no choice but to deceive this young man's trust.

"It surely is, Your Grace. I trust we can all rely on the Druids' gratitude in later times for what we are doing. A future peace for _all_ in Camelot _is_ a worthy enough cause."

Arthur watched him walk over to the stables to change his horse and make ready to go out again, this time with the majority of the warriors presently residing in Devil's Claw. Pendragon was so caught up in his musings that he jerked when a hand came down on his shoulder. "Gwaine. You startled me."

The knight cocked a brow. Obviously he had caught the Prince completely off guard, otherwise Arthur Pendragon and a confession of being startled did not go together very well. "What's he up to?" Gwaine asked and jerked his head at Ravenclaw's back.

"Putting a spoke in Becco's wheel. Apparently my dear relative is going to harass Algernon's people."

As, for once, Arthur seemed to be of a friendly mind towards him, Gwaine seized the opportunity to make some amends, as Gaius had been pestering him to do for the last four months. "I wondered whether you would join us, me and the others that is, tonight, for a few drinks. We've found a barrel of wine in the cellars and as the Druids don't touch the stuff and old Gryffyd doesn't mind, I thought…that is Gaius thought that I may think….I mean…"

"You mean whether Guinivere and I would join you for a few toasts in Merlin's honour, is that it?"

"Yes" Gwaine beamed. "Gaius's…I mean, my thought exactly!"

Arthur smirked at Gwaine's awkwardness but the mentioning of his dead friend let the smirk vanish almost as soon as it had appeared. "I am honoured by the invitation. As will my wife be" he said.

Gwaine nodded and made haste to get away. He knew his lack of social graces as well as Arthur's and Guinivere's touchiness on the matter and he had no wish to endanger his success by saying any more.

"How did it go?" Gaius asked the knight. The healer had watched the whole exchange from a hidden spot under the columns.

"Oh, you know these Royals' ways. He's been pompous an' all but I think he'll come, all right."

"And what about her?"

Gwaine remembered his last few brushings with the young woman Arthur had come to consider – and declare most insistently – as his wife even without any official ceremony. The knight shrugged awkwardly. "She'll come if he comes, I reckon."

"Let's hope so" Gaius replied, suppressing a derisive, if affectionate, grin with considerable effort. Gwaine's helpless attempts at becoming friends with the people Merlin had felt himself a part of were touching but also somewhat funny to behold.

Equally funny were the Earl of Bodmin's protestations when he followed Ravenclaw in the lead of his own men. There was no doubt that Angus wasn't altogether happy with this new duty.

Three hours later, all funny thoughts were driven from the castle's inhabitants' minds.

"Sire, Sir Gryffyd calls for your presence on the battlements" Sim panted heavily when he finally found Arthur in the vaults were he was discussing the distribution of supplies with Leon.

As the two men and the boy, who had become inseparably stuck on his adored Prince, met Sir Gryffyd on the castle walls, all questions as to the reasons for the urgent call were superfluous. Arthur's face became as white as chalk at the sight of the Camelot banner's that emerged from the woods around Devil's Claw in great numbers. When he recognized the man in the troops' lead he grabbed the wall's edge for support. There was no doubt whatsoever that they were looking at the King of Camelot himself.

"I trust that we'll have no chance just to invite your father in and play a piece of you being a most humbled prisoner, My Lord" Sir Gryffyd said hoarsely. "For that we are one Earl and his escort short."

The thoughts were racing in Arthur's head when all his hopes and trust tumbled down on him. By no chance whatsoever Ravenclaw could have missed a troop of this size when he had been out on reconnaissance earlier. Fleetingly the young Pendragon felt real gratitude that neither Gryffyd nor Leon mentioned the noble or their Prince's misplaced trust in the man. It was painfully obvious that the Baron had betrayed them all, taking every precaution that Arthur and the others were securely trapped and defenceless on Uther's arrival.

The Prince's mouth went dry while he watched his father shouting some unintelligible orders. The times in which the sight of Uther in full armour and on horseback had inspired admiration and love in Arthur's heart had long since passed. Now apprehension of what this murderous beast would do next to the people he loved was all Arthur could think about.

The last memory he had was Uther pressing a sword against his son's throat, ordering Bodmin to take him away to so shameful a captivity that His Majesty himself did not want it to be known to anybody else in Camelot. It had been Uther's last brilliant feat of arms before he had wielded his gallant blade to kill a helpless young sorcerer whose only crime had been to have saved the King's worthless arse!

"What are we going to do, Sire?" Leon turned to his Prince while they watched Malcolm of Saltyre riding towards the gate. The fact that the younger Branguard was unarmed and in plain clothes spoke volumes of his situation. This was no friendly visit; the King knew exactly what was going on in Devil's Claw.

"Sir Gryffyd, is there any way out of the castle that a few men might take and get away unseen?" Arthur himself marvelled at the calm of his voice.

"There is a tunnel, but it has not been used for decades. Anyways, it only leads a few hundred feet away from the castle into the woods."

"Leon, please fetch Gaius, Gwaine and the others. I rely on you to bring my wife and the men safely to the Druids. I'm sure that Algernon and his people will have found a safe place to hide. Otherwise they would have run into the King's men and we would see some Druid prisoners by now." There was no need to add his other thoughts. "_And I do pray to all Gods that Algernon will not take it out on you that the two hundred of his people in here will all be lost_."

"But what of you?" Leon protested although he already knew the answer.

Arthur shook his head. "I do not doubt that the King has come mainly for me. You and the others may not be important enough to pursue once you're out of the stronghold, or he may not even know that you are here. Please, Leon, it wouldn't help me if you fell prey to him. You know him. He'll want to see me on my knees before he decides what to do with me, it'll only make things worse if he had leverage against me."

"He's right" Gryffyd snapped before Leon could say anything else. "You'll be hard put to bring them all out as it is, especially as the Lady is so very near her time. I suggest you carry out your orders young man, _now_!"

Helplessly Leon looked from one to the other before he lowered his head and left the battlements. He met Gwaine and Lance, who had meanwhile gathered that something was going on, in the square and they argued audibly for a while before the heated but muffled debate was drowned out by Malcolm's booming voice. "Open the gates for a message from the King!"

Arthur hoped desperately that Leon would make the others see reason. For a second the knowledge that he would not be able to say good bye to his wife, that he would most probably never see her or his child, almost strangled him before his warrior's instincts took over and forced him to be calm.

"I say we'll give the others as much time as possible" Gryffyd said and Arthur just nodded, not yet trusting his voice in this moment.

"My Lord Saltyre. What an unexpected pleasure" Gryffyd roared while he stepped into the visitor's sight. "To what do we owe it?"

"Where is my brother?" Malcolm yelled back, and the fear in his voice was unmistakable. Uther's men had their weapons trained on his unprotected back and the King had his arm raised for a command to let go any moment.

"My master is busy at the moment. If you have a message from the King as you claim, you should come in." Gryffyd knew better than to address Uther directly, as the King had chosen to send Branguard to the front line.

Without any further ado, Gryffyd gave a signal to his soldiers to lower the draw bridge and open the gates far enough to let one man pass. Malcolm turned round and somehow perceived that Uther wanted him to enter the stronghold, as he spurred his horse to cross the bridge a minute later.

Once he was inside, Gryffyd had the gates once more closed and bolted from the inside. After all, the King himself so far had not demanded access, had he?

"Arthur, for heaven's sake, what are you doing here outside?" Malcolm's heart sank at the sight of the young man whom he had thought – or better desperately hoped – to be a prisoner somewhere in the stronghold's dungeons. Maybe this would have been enough to calm Uther's paranoia a bit. "Where is my brother?"

"Your brother never made it here" Arthur replied coldly. "Ravenclaw and some of the Druids freed me as soon as we reached the outskirts of the castle's land. For all I know Bodmin still is in their hands, with all his men. _I_ am in command of Devil's Claw right now." The Prince cast a side glance at Sir Gryffyd, pleading for forgiveness for this bold statement.

However, the old man needed no further lead of any kind. "And what's so peculiar about that, My Lord Saltyre?" he asked innocently. "Last time I checked His Highness still was the Crown Prince of Camelot. What business had your brother anyway to abduct his Liege's son and heir, I wonder, aye?"

Malcolm ignored the old knight completely. "This won't wash, Arthur. Your precious Aunt showed Uther the allotment notes you signed for Devil's Claw and all hell is loose in Camelot. You've been disowned and outlawed, Hortensius is Crown Prince now. King Uther wants your head; that much is certain. He's issued a warrant for your arrest, dead or alive."

"That's as maybe. I will not go back on my word to the helpless people who have found shelter here. Tell His Majesty if he wants to see the colour of his own flesh and blood, he'll have to catch me first. I know we cannot hold out for long if he has the battlements stormed but he'll lose a lot of Becco's men in the attempt and I'll make sure I will not fall into his hands alive."

"What are Your Highness's demands before you are willing to surrender?" Branguard knew when all arguing with a Pendragon would be in vain. Right now, he was utterly relieved to know that his brother was far away from this hellish place, even if it was as Ravenclaw's prisoner. Anything was better than being in Uther's mad claws. Malcolm still had problems to conceive that he should so have misread the King's feelings for his only son.

Arthur, for one, no longer pondered these feelings. From where he stood now, they'd never been real in the first place. "Tell the King I want his solemn word that he will spare the lives of the Druids who have found shelter here as well as the lives of Sir Gryffyd and his men, who have only carried out my orders. If he pledges his honour for their safety, I promise I will open the gates for him and his new Crown Prince at tonight's dawn and he can do with me what ever he wants."

Malcolm bowed his head in acknowledgement. He hadn't expected anything else from Arthur than giving himself up. If the Prince, for some reason, thought it wise to stall, to postpone the inevitable for some three or four hours, what business was it of his?

Branguard took his time to go back to his King, until Uther's impatient roar was to be heard from the cliff's edge. The King sent Hortensius to the once more tightly closed gates, to deliver his answer. As the defenders of the castle had expected, Uther agreed, while making it painfully clear that all the inhabitants of the stronghold would perish if his son should escape or take his own life.

Arthur had the most horrible time of his life when he tried to calm the anxious Druids who knew they faced a horrible death at Uther's hands, should the King not live up to his word. Not for a moment the Prince believed that his father would abide by his promise to spare them and yet this commitment was all the comfort he had to offer. All of a sudden he remembered Sim and his eyes darted around in search for the boy. He felt his knees wobble for a second when Sim was nowhere to be seen. Somehow, someone had mercifully thought of taking the young Druid through the tunnel with the others.

Finally the sun set and he had stalled for all the time he could give his wife and friends. Silently he nodded at Sir Gryffyd who bellowed what probably was his last order as the commander of Devil's Claw.

In the very last moment, while the draw bridge was already coming down, Arthur made the Druids go inside the castle, hoping somehow that it would protect them if they were not the first thing his father saw when he came in.

After they had dispersed somewhere in the buildings and cellars, the King's son stood alone in the court yard. Sir Gryffyd waited on the main hall's steps, Arthur's sword in his hands, when His Majesty Uther Pendragon finally made his entry into Devil's Claw.


	17. A setting sun's last burning light

**17. A setting sun's last burning light**

Uther caught his breath when he set eyes on his son. In the almost five months since they had parted, the King had always thought he'd come as a benevolent liberator to Devil's Claw, received in gratitude and remorse by a son who had realized how deeply he had wronged his father.

Instead a remote, utterly estranged young man gazed at his King with all the warmth and affection of a midnight in January. As this reality did not live up to Uther's expectant daydreaming, it crushed all his former fondness for his child to nothing.

"_No longer a knight of Camelot_" the elder Pendragon thought bitterly "_A friend of sorcerers. Not my son but Morgana's brother._"

The pain these realizations brought had already lost its sharp edge. It had become dull, throbbing - still sickening, but bearable and Uther was very impressed with himself. He actually found some comfort in the remarkable strength and fortitude with which he endured the hurt and disappointment his sharp-witted perception of his son's treachery brought him.

The King had no idea of the important role Matilda's potions played in this perception. Had it not been for the potent drugs, pain and fear of loss might have brought about some insight in the utter absurdity of his suspicions against Arthur. As it was, Uther mistook his paranoid notions for proof of his impressive clear sightedness.

Neither did the Comtess know how much the potions she gave her brother increased the King's paranoia and clouded his judgement, even before they would finally kill him. Matilda's poison was mainly meant to bring about a slow, inconspicuous paralysis of her brother's heart muscle and lungs. What could be more natural than that a King of fifty, a man only recently recovered from a severe illness to the realization of another, heart-breaking blow of fate, finally died of a heart attack or pneumonia?

So, if Arthur should have hoped – what he had not – to find some residue of affection in his father, he would have been disappointed. The King's manner was utterly terse and indifferent when he gave his orders. "Take him."

While two of Becco's men roughly shackled Arthur's arms behind his back and let an iron collar snap in around his neck, he never took his eyes from his father's blasé face.

With the length of chain attached to the collar in the firm grip of one of the soldiers, Uther could be assured that his son would not budge an inch without his captors' permission. He allowed himself a satisfied smile, convinced that the rough treatment would show even to this stubborn pride who was the master here.

Confidently the King waited for Arthur to lower his eyes or to show some other signs of intimidation, but he waited in vain. The young prisoner did not back down. It was the father who finally could not endure this silent exchange of hatred, bitter resentment and contempt any longer.

Choosing to ignore his son, Pendragon went to the old knight on the steps. "Where are those sorcerers?"

"To my certain knowledge there are no sorcerers among them, Your Majesty" Sir Gryffyd replied sternly. Unwittingly his hand opened and closed near the hilt of his sword. With an effort he kept his eyes away from the prisoner in the hold of the two Gaulish men; knowing that staring at the appalling scene would only add to the Prince's humiliation.

"You are relieved of duty already Sir Gryffyd, I would strongly advise you to keep your half-witted opinions to yourself. Where are they?"

"Inside. Hiding, I suppose. Old people, some cripples, many children. A glorious prey for every gallant knight to catch, for sure. Every single one of them more than worth to relinquish a King's honour for."

Uther clenched his jaws under the onslaught of the old knight's scorn. "Tread carefully, old man. You're one step away from the gallows as it is."

"I sacrificed my only child in your war against magic; now you're willing to sacrifice your own son for it. The war hasn't become less idiotic in the meantime. What better seal on my life than to follow Prince Arthur to the scaffold for an attempt to end it?"

"If that is what you want, we can have that much easier" Uther replied and brought his right hand to his belt.

Gryffyd did not make a sound when the King's blade cut through his heart in one swift thrust while Arthur's desperate plea for mercy rang through the square for nothing. From the look of things, one couldn't be sure that Uther had even heard it when he went inside with Becco and a few of his men in his wake.

At some time, while the terribly frightened Druids were rounded up in the square and tied together, someone had the idea to bring Arthur down to one of the dungeon cells. Even with his arms still bound behind him and chained to the wall he was grateful for being left alone, out of sight and out of earshot of the senseless human misery Uther was creating outside. For hours he tortured himself with the thought of how many of the hapless people he could have saved, had he not kept the secret of the tunnel to himself, to increase his loved ones' chances of escape.

It was late in the next morning when he heard boots stomp towards his cell; the door was unlocked and some Gaulish soldiers together with Becco stepped inside. The Gaulish comte was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "The King demands your presence."

"And who are you nowadays? His catch-fart or his doormat?"

"He made _me_ Crown Prince of Camelot. In case you didn't know." Hortensius put as much superiority into this piece of information as he possibly could while the prisoner's collar was unchained from the wall and he was hauled to his feet.

"Congratulations" Arthur replied derisively. "Pray tell me, how many dignitaries the King has found who formally witnessed this idiocy?"

Becco winced. His mother had not let him in the dark about the sinister meaning of the conspicuous absence of nobility. The small audience, which had hardly filled the first two rows of Camelot's main hall, had been a major shortcoming of the ceremony of which the young Comte had been so very proud at the time.

It had spoiled things for him and with this memory Hortensius' face contorted in wrath. His hand in the heavy, metal-clad glove slapped the captive's face with all the force envy and a lifetime of rejection can give. "We shall see how much that matters once you've got what you deserve."

Despite all his resolve to the contrary, Arthur gasped with pain. Without the hand that held his leash directly by the collar he would have fallen. As it was, the sharp edge of the iron ring bit into his skin while it held him upright. When the pull on the chain slackened somewhat, Arthur tried to wipe the blood off his nose on his shoulder but Becco grabbed his hair and forced his head back. "Let me show you how much your father cares. After you."

Hortensius dragged his Cousin forward and upstairs by the leash, never letting go of the swatch of hair he had grabbed, until Arthur thought the skin would come off his head.

However, when they reached the main hall, Uther, in a not too friendly way, ordered his new Crown Prince to leave him alone with his son. Becco opened his mouth as if to protest but a punitive look from his uncle made him stroll out, albeit very reluctantly, leaving his captive in the hold of two sturdy Gaulish soldiers.

Arthur didn't resist when he was forced to his knees or when the chain of his collar was fastened to his ankles before the guards were dismissed in no uncertain tones. He couldn't prevent this and the outward humiliation was only the beginning anyhow. He would need all his strength for what was about to come. He only wished he would endure it stoically up to the foreseeable end.

And yet he winced and moaned softly when his father grabbed his throbbing face and turned it into the light to have a closer look at it. Arthur closed his eyes as the bright sunlight blinded him. So he missed the abhorred expression that flickered over Uther's face before it once again became a frozen mask of cold anger when he let go of his son's chin.

"You know which charges are brought up against you!" The King didn't phrase that as a question.

"I know I've been already sentenced to death for High Treason. So why am I still alive?"

"Do you have nothing to say for yourself?"

Arthur looked up at the man who a long time ago, in another life, had been the most important person in his world. He blinked furiously, to clear his sight from the tears Becco's brutal blow had forced from his eyes. "You've made up your mind anyway. There is nothing left to say."

"I will have the truth, Arthur. You will neither leave this room nor eat or drink before I have it. After all the sacrifices I've made for you, I deserve to know why you've betrayed me."

"What sacrifices are you talking about? It was my mother who died when I was born, not you. Thousands you must have killed since then but it wasn't for me, it was for your own guilty conscience."

Arthur closed his eyes instinctively while he braced himself for another beating or a kick into his side. When only silence answered him, he looked up, directly into his father's aghast face.

Uther was as white as a sheet. Even through the comforting, calming haze the drugs provided this had hit home, right into the inner core of Pendragon's soul, where he had carefully locked away the more nasty truths of his life. Briefly his hand grabbed his aching chest before he pulled himself together. No one would ever see him weak again; it was enough that he had shown his treacherous daughter what he had really felt.

"I warn you, there are other methods to wrench the truth behind this conspiracy from you. I'll ask you one last time: Who incited you to betray me? Was it Ravenclaw? Blast it, answer me!"

"No one incited me. There never was a conspiracy. It's all in your mind."

"It may be partly my fault. I should have seen your mother's talent to befriend the wrong people in you. It makes you vulnerable. You are too trustful, too kind hearted for your own good. And for mine. Now tell me, who took advantage of your weakness? Who was it?"

"Leave my mother out of this. _You_ are the vulnerable one here; it's you who's brought Camelot to the brink of ruin with the hatred and the vengeance you inspired in people."

"You deny then that you allied yourself with this bunch of sorcerers behind my back?"

"I didn't plan to ally myself with the Druids, they were starving and pleaded for help in common mercy's name. The winter was so very hard and we had left them nowhere to go. They were in rags, the children were starving, for the Gods' sake."

"They were _sorcerers_ and you knew it. You knew I'd never condone what you did."

"I thought you'd understand, you'd at least listen once you'd regained your wits. I didn't know that you've never had your wits about you since the day I was born."

"So you think me to be an imbecile, an idiot, unfit to rule. Who put this outrageous idea into your head, huh? Was it this young sorcerer? Was it Merlin?"

"Don't you dare say his name. He did nothing of the kind. He saved your life, God damn you, and you murdered him!" Arthur's desperate outcry was wasted on his father. Uther couldn't have cared less that he had been accused of a crime he had not committed. Too strong was his belief that his son was clutching at every possible and impossible straw to cover up for somebody else.

"Who was it? Arthur, you are one step away from the rack. Do not think I'd not have you tortured if needs be. Who has incited you to lead this rebellion against me? Maybe it wasn't your fault alone. Maybe you were enchanted. Did somebody enchant you? Did he? Who was it?"

"I wasn't enchanted. I knew what I did. Nobody incited me to anything."

"Saltyre has already confessed his guilt. You see, your lies won't do any good. Was Branguard the only one? What of his brother? Was he part of this conspiracy too?"

Arthur felt as if he was drawn into a maelstrom of madness and twisted logic. No chance to come out of it. No chance to reason with an inquisitor who thought that he already had all the answers, that there was no need to _listen_.

Nevertheless he tried again to bring his father back to his senses. "What I did was in the best interest of Camelot. You'll lose everything you've ever worked for if you go on with these senseless persecutions of innocent people. Damn it, your own daughter hates you like poison, doesn't that tell you anything?"

"So I was right" the King stated, taken aback although this only confirmed his earlier suspicions. "You and your sister, you were in this together. When did you decide to go over to her, before or after you had staged your so called rescue of King and Country? Tell me!"

"It had nothing to do with Morgana, I only wanted to make sure that something like this would never happen again. You were ill; I could not ask your permission. I had to do what _I_ thought was right." Arthur bit his lip to silence himself. He had been _that_ resolved not to beg, not to justify himself to the mindless brute his father had become and now he sounded like a whining child.

Uther felt his vision blacken. He had trouble breathing and his chest ached abominably. He needed a break. Only a few minutes to calm himself. He was making progress here, he knew it. Only a short break, and then he would get his answers, no matter what.

Arthur slumped down when his father left him without so much as a word of explanation. The Prince would have given much for a chance to stand or to at least ease the strain on his back and legs, but the short chain between his neck and his ankles kept him where and how he was.

No sleep, no food and the strain of this senseless interrogation as well as the renewed whimpering and moaning from the outside that told him of the Druids' suffering – suddenly he was trembling from cold and the feeling of being hopelessly lost.

It could have been minutes or hours before the door in his back opened and closed again and footsteps approached him.

Matilda frowned when she saw her nephew. "You've seen better days" she said instead of a greeting. She paused, but the young man did not answer her. "Uther won't come back. He's ill."

It took Arthur a moment to focus on what she was saying. "What?"

"A mild heart attack. Must have been all this anxiety and agitation. A few days rest and he will be right as rain. He's asked me to handle this for him until he's recovered."

"I bet he has" Arthur muttered softly. He raised his head and scrutinized her. "You've got all you wanted, Aunt Matilda, haven't you? My place is Becco's now; your brother is like wax in your hand. You might as well finish me off and be done with it."

"You've definitely broken the law. Surely you realize that your motives do not matter" Matilda replied, pragmatic and down-to-earth enough for a talk about pastry recipes. "Fact is that you tried to reverse your father's most fundamental policy as soon as you got a chance. You even continued with it after you had clear knowledge of his opposing will. You instigated Saltyre to get rid of important Council documents, you harboured criminals in Devil's Claw and you faked official reports to your father. This constitutes High Treason. Is that not so?"

Arthur just nodded, as far as the collar allowed. Technically she was absolutely right. If Uther wanted to see it like that, the law gave him every right to have his own son drawn, hanged and quartered, should he so wish. "As the King has obviously decided to send me to the bloc for it, just say it."

"Let's be frank with each other, Arthur. We both know it's not that easy. There are still those in Camelot who would lay down their life for you. Your father is resolved to depose you. Against this decision, much opposition will rise. To stabilize your father's rule and to secure the throne for my son we have to quench this opposition. For that, we need your official confession of all the crimes you're charged with as well as your equally official relinquishment of the throne. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Slowly, painfully Arthur shook his head as far as the restraints would let him. "Over my dead body. I will neither ease the King's conscience nor will I willingly make way for your half-wit of a son. Torture me all you want, but I won't make such declarations."

Arthur flinched when she patted his head lightly. "Now, now, my boy, that's too hasty an answer in such an important matter. Surely you need some time to assess your situation. Take as much time as you want. You'll be interrogated again. And again. And again. I'm a very patient person, dear nephew. Believe me, in the end we will reach some sort of agreement."

"Did the King really give you permission to do this?" He cursed himself that he should care whether his father had agreed to this or not but he found that he _did_ care. Actually, he cared very much.

"He will not hinder me. Uther's become…dependant on me. And on my potions. _Especially_ on my potions. And you have hit him hard, Arthur, very hard."

"I've never betrayed him." The words were out before he really knew it and he regretted them deeply. The more so when she caressed his neck, relying on the fact that he could not back away from her hand.

"I know that" she said quietly. "But you must understand, it's not important what you've really done but what your father _thinks_ you've done. And right now he's absolutely convinced of your treachery."

She bent down to his ear; he felt her breath wafting over his skin. "Be reasonable, Arthur. The throne is lost but this isn't worth your life. He will not live forever and after he's dead, we'll be free to come to some tolerable understanding."

"Go to hell" he whispered, and she straightened her back with a sigh. She left him there, kneeling on the cold stone floor, and send in her guards.

Matilda, her men and her son took turns on Arthur. He was not allowed to sleep. They gave him water only when he was too parched to speak and they hardly ever took off the chains while they repeated the same questions, the same demands, over and over again.

It took almost three days before the prisoner finally lost consciousness and could not be roused. Matilda gave order to let him sleep a few precious hours before the interrogations would continue.

"We can't go on like this to all eternity, mother." Becco's uneasiness had grown over the last few days. "We've got two hundred prisoners out there, we're running low on supplies, my men get restless and I doubt that my uncle would really agree to what you're doing here."

"Oh, tell me something I don't know" his mother snapped. "We can't just go back to the citadel without having a sound case against your Cousin. It's not just that my brother could change his mind any time, there are many in Camelot who would wish Uther _and_ you to hell for Arthur's sake."

"Then why not execute my Cousin here and now, while we still have the chance. It'll be perfectly legal, I've checked it. The King is indisposed, I _am_ the Crown Prince after all and Uther has signed the warrant before we left. 'Dead or alive' it said."

"And I am telling you, it's still too dangerous. For the Gods' sake, my son, can't you just do as I say and bide your time!"

Hortensius looked thoughtfully at his enraged mother. As of late, he sometimes wondered whether she was grossly misjudging their situation. It would be the first time that she got things wrong, though. So he finally bowed his head, gave her his usual careless smile and left affairs to her, as he had always done.

Matilda sighed softly with relief when he was gone. She loved him. She wished to see Becco on Uther's throne more than anything in the world. And yet something else had come on the agenda, something she had not thought about when she had made her plans back home in the Auvergne.

"If only your wretched lad would see reason" Matilda murmured, to someone only she could see.

"Madame. A patrol has grabbed some people, not too far away from the castle. One of them had a coat with the Camelot crest with him and the young woman had this on her."

The soldier showed his Comtess what had been found on the woman his comrades had arrested in the woods behind Devil's Claw. Matilda looked at the small item curiously. Slowly, very slowly an angelic smile spread on her face.

The guard decided spontaneously to profit from her unexpected good mood. "When would Madame la Comtess wish to see the prisoner again?" he asked, eager to please.

"It will not be necessary to continue the interrogations" she said. "Let him sleep. We've got all the time in the world now." She turned and gave the man the gracious reward he had been waiting for.

Once alone, she looked at the small item in her hand and chuckled joyfully. "Thank you, Igraine" she said softly under her breath. "Oh, thank you, thank you a thousand times."

Arthur slept for almost 12 hours before thirst, famine and the pain in his joints and muscles overcame his exhaustion. He was astonished to find food and water already waiting for him when he woke up. Although it wasn't much, it allayed the worst of his hunger. A voice whispered in his mind that this generosity did not bode well but he shoved it to the back of his mind resolutely while he stuffed his face. Gods, it was glorious to have his hands and neck free.

If his Aunt thought she'd convince him with a carrot-and-stick-policy, so by all means, he'd not be the one who discouraged her. Not as long as she was wielding the carrot.

Matilda found him asleep again and for a moment she marvelled at his peaceful face. "_You are a tough one, I grant you that_" she thought. "_A few crumbs of bread, a jug of water and you look as if you had no care in this world_."

Briefly she regretted to be the one to destroy this peace but then she woke him.

Arthur awoke with a start. He backed off when he saw her but his eyes went wide as he recognized the silver signet ring she dangled in front of his eyes. With an angry yelp he grabbed her wrist, hard, and tried to take the ring by force. Of course, it was no use. He struggled desperately but finally the guards she had brought with her vanquished him.

"I thought you'd recognize your mother's ring" Matilda said. "Last time I saw it, it was on your hand. You will know from whom I've taken it now. So let's not waste any more time. You will sign the two declarations now, I take it?"

With both arms twisted behind his back, Arthur nevertheless strained against the men's hold. "What have you done to her? Where is she? I demand to see her, now!"

"And you will. As soon as you've signed the documents and given me your word not to revoke them."

One last time his pride rose up against the unworthy allegations she wanted him to submit to. "You have no right to do this. If the King was here…."

"She and the others would be dead already. You know that very well. Sign and no harm will come to her. Wait for your father to recover and she and the child will perish."

The captive's struggling ceased. She held up the detested documents and signalled her soldiers to let go of him. Barely a minute later Arthur had signed what he knew would end his life in shame. He had not even read what she had forced him to 'confess'.

"I'll have some water and fresh clothes brought to you. You'd scare her to death otherwise" Matilda said softly. "You look like something that has escaped from a grave."

"Thank you."

She nodded and shrugged dismissively. Somehow Arthur had expected her to look happier when she had got what she had wanted.

"If there is anything else I can do for you Arthur, just say it."

"What will happen to my wife and my friends when I am….gone?" He didn't want to ask and yet he had to.

"I will take care of them myself. No matter what your father says, no harm will come to any of them. I promise."

While she was already on her way to see her brother, she repeated this to herself with angry resolution. "I promise."

Half an hour later Uther let the parchments fall from his hand and leaned back against his bed's headboard, both eyes closed in utter relief. "I knew it" he said quietly. "I knew it wasn't his fault alone. I knew he had been seduced by others, at least to a certain degree."

"_You knew nothing of the kind, dear brother_" Matilda thought sarcastically. "_Back in Camelot, when we rode off, you vowed to kill Arthur with your own hands!_"

"That's why some people in Camelot may think this evidence to be a bit too circumstantial to justify a death sentence against a Prince of the Blood" she said casually.

He shifted uncomfortably on his bed. "Do you think so too?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know. Certainly, if you were to spare your son's life, it would add to your already impressive reputation and prestige. A father who soils his hands with his own flesh and blood always has something of a monster."

Uther pondered that.

The two hundred Druids on the pyre or on the bloc would make an impressive enough sight to declare victory – and an end of the second purge without loss of face. The King's hands fumbled with the documents nervously. Was it impressive enough to spare a treacherous son's life or would this show of mercy diminish the King's strength and authority in the eyes of all Camelot?

Matilda guessed what her brother was thinking and decided to push him a bit further along. "An act of mercy, albeit undeserved, would make a very good impression. Viewed in this light, you might wish to moderate the sentence to imprisonment for life."

However, her brother was too caught up in his zest for regaining his position and the people's fear he mistook for respect. He could not see a golden bridge, even if it was presented to him so obviously. "That is not possible" he said and she paused in mid-stride.

"Why not?" Matilda asked alarmed.

"Ravenclaw and this young scoundrel Merlin are both out of reach. As they cannot confirm Arthur's allegations that they pressed him into this conspiracy, he's still the guilty part. High Treason is punishable by death, without exception. Unless…."

"Unless what?"

"There have been some special cases, one of them three centuries ago. It could be the precedent I need. It's in the annals of the Fallen Kings. Don't you remember?"

"_You can't_" Matilda wanted to scream. "_That's not mercy, that's monstrous_." She inhaled sharply. "I do remember the case. I think even the contemporaries criticized this King Osric for what he did to his son."

"But the boy survived. Arthur is strong and healthy, the ritual won't kill him."

The Comtess pulled herself together. "The annals do not tell us much about Osric's son afterwards. He was still alive when his brother took the throne on their father's death but there the story ends."

Uther lowered his head. "I just thought…." he said. Then his feelings could no longer be contained. "I thought maybe you would want him to live, too. Igraine was your friend after all!"

Astonished at the passion in his voice, she turned to face her brother. "Uther, I sometimes wonder if you know what you really want."

Her brother misread the meaning of this question. "I've granted the title of Crown Prince to Becco and I will not go back on that" he said, his whole face a desperate plea. "What more can you want for your son? But my boy would _live_, Matilda. Damn it, Arthur's _my_ son!"

"Then go to your new Crown Council and tell them that you have found him guilty but that no one in this world can expect a father to harm his own child."

"I can't. They would see it as a sign of weakness on my side. I can't afford to look weak, not after everyone has seen me on my knees before my own daughter."

He looked at her, still pleadingly, and she recognized the wilful, egocentric and reckless child she had grown up with. He had always been a hypocrite and he would one day die a hypocrite and a liar to himself. One day _soon_, Matilda reminded herself.

"Naturally you are right, dear brother" she gave in. "But as you yourself mentioned my obligations to Arthur's late mother – may I ask for a favour?"

"Everything you want."

"After the ritual is over – would you give him into my custody? It wouldn't be seemly if Arthur stayed in Camelot, not while my son is growing into his role as your heir apparent."

Fleetingly Uther remembered his former fears. "_God have mercy on my son should he ever fall into your hands_." But of what use were those thoughts now? Everything had turned out so very differently from what he once had thought and planned.

Besides, with Arthur being far away and out of sight, all this would be much easier to endure. Knowing his son to be close and yet out of reach in Devil's Claw had been hard as well as dangerous, as Uther now knew. "Naturally, my dear Matilda. Who else could take better care of him?"

"Then I would suggest that we proceed speedily" Matilda stated. "If we execute the verdict tomorrow, we could send the Druid prisoners to Camelot afterwards, together with the majority of our troops. Do you consent?"

"With all my heart, my dear." Uther rose and kissed his sister's hand enthusiastically. "By the way, Matilda, have you brought my remedy? I think it is time for another dosage."

As she pulled the phial out of her pocket, she furtively wiped her hand clean at her skirt. The touch of his lips on her skin had disgusted her beyond reason.

"Tomorrow morning, then" she said. "Do you want me to give the necessary orders?"

"I'd be most obliged if you did, my dear." Uther opened the phial and gulped its content down.

"Do you want to see your son one last time before tomorrow? As he will be considered impure after the ritual, neither King nor Crown Prince can have any intercourse with him_._"

She saw her brother's hand close on the glass phial and crush it. "_You had forgotten that little detail, hadn't you"_ she thought.

"Oh, damn" Uther murmured while he sucked the blood from a little cut in his hand. "No. No, I shouldn't think he'd want that. It'll only be painful for him."

"As you wish, dear brother."

Once outside she fought down the bile that had come up her throat. For a second she thought that it wasn't worth it. Her Becco would have a bright enough future as the Comte D'Auvergne, even without the Crown of Camelot. But she shook this morbid thought off. This had nothing to do with her or Hortensius. This egomaniac of a brother would have found a reason to lash into his own son with or without her support.

Gaius would have said that hypocrisy was a sin common among the elder Pendragons, male and female alike. But presently the old healer was locked up in an empty storage room together with the five knights of the round table, and had other things to occupy his mind.

Nevertheless, she felt awkward when she fulfilled her promise to let Arthur join his wife, and it made her manner curt and rough. For once Matilda took her refuge to her brother's kind of cowardice and left them both in the dark about what was to come.

Neither the young Prince nor Guinivere noticed that their door was locked and bolted behind Matilda's back. For the remainder of the night they did their best to create their own sort of fool's paradise, shutting out all thoughts of the future except the one of their child.

"He's kicking" Arthur said when he felt her belly flinching under his hand. "A strong boy. That much is certain."

"My mother told me that I almost kicked my way out of her womb. So it may still be a girl."

"It's not so very important" Arthur said wisely. "It's healthy enough. A miracle after what has happened to you."

Guinivere snuggled up against him. "Please do not be angry with me. I know we shouldn't have waited for some news from you so close to the castle. It was my fault. The others didn't want to, even Gaius was against it. But I wouldn't leave." She buried her nose in his neck. "I'm so sorry. And yet I'm so glad that we are together. Isn't that stupid?"

"Not really."

"What did they do to you?" Gwen had tried her best to overlook his bruises and his general exhaustion although that had been almost impossible.

"It was nothing really. My father blows hot, he blows cold – it will all come to nothing in the end. As always."

"What was that about a confession I heard this horrible woman talk about? What did Matilda mean by that?"

"Nothing. I think she referred to some of the Druids. It had nothing to do with me."

"What will happen to us? To the others?" She wiped her face, angry that she had broken their unmentioned gtruce with the future. "_What will become of our child_?" The last part she swallowed. No use being overly dramatic if one's circumstances were already bleak enough to keep three dramas going.

"My father will calm down and we will go home. End of story. What else?"

He sounded very convincing. But not convincing enough for her. Suddenly she knew that he did not believe in his own words. She knew that she would lose him. That she would lose everything she had, come daylight.

"Do you miss him?" she said. "Merlin?"

"Yes" Arthur replied with all his heart. "I think if he had been around, nothing of this would have happened. The idiot was a walking good luck charm."

"I still can't believe that he was a sorcerer. And that you knew."

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, my love. But it was his life I would have risked, not mine."

"_And then you did it anyway_" she thought. "_Now it'll cost both your lives_."

"I miss him too" she whispered. "So very much. Almost as much as I love you."

The night seemed very short. Arthur tensed when the door was unlocked after what appeared to have been not more than an hour. Becco entered with decisive strides and carefully set shoulders. "It's time" he said. "Get up!"

Arthur felt Guinivere trying to get to her feet, too. "No my love, please" he whispered urgently. "Don't let him hurt you."

"Cross your wrists behind you back." Clearly Hortensius wanted to get this over with.

While they were tying his hands, Arthur tried to hold Guinivere's gaze as long as he could. "I love you, my darling. I am so very proud of you. Do not forget that."

"I won't" she said while he was led out and the door was banged shut once more.

Only when he was gone she began to cry.


	18. The mercy of the Fallen King

**18. The mercy of the Fallen King**

"Leon, come away from the window. It's us noblemen you should commiserate with, not the Druids. After all you've never had a soft spot for the wretches in the past."

The other knight's shoulders tensed and Gwaine smirked mercilessly. Tormenting this paragon of knightly virtues was the only thing that brought some comfort to his soul these days.

Leon cocked an angry brow at his unnerving comrade when Gaius came to lay a comforting hand on the knight's shoulder – and to have a peep of his own at was going on outside.

"I wonder what they have erected that pole and the forge for" Leon said softly. Alas, not softly enough.

"Maybe they are going to have a barbecue" Gwaine chimed in. "Let's make a bet, shall we? Who's going to be the first course, a Druid or one of us?"

"Shut up Gwaine" Lance said angrily. "Nobody is laughing about your jokes."

However, this time Leon surprised them all with a malicious huff. "I only wish it would be King Uther. Can you believe that? Of me? I'd never thought I'd see the day."

Gaius let go of Leon's shoulder. He had no comfort to offer, his feelings towards Uther were the same as Leon's. Besides all what had already happened, the terrible ordeal the helpless, bound Druids were going through was enough to lose one's faith in mankind and in the Gods' grace. No shelter from the elements, hardly any food, barely a cup of water per head each day. After four days the square stank abominably of human faeces.

It was the Great Purge all over again, only that Gaius no longer saw any sense in what Uther did. Or in the King himself.

Suddenly the opposite side of the square caught the healer's attention. The commotion there told him that they would very soon know for what and whom the pole and forge had been erected. Disgusted Gaius turned away. He had no wish to see any additional senseless human misery.

"Dear Gods, it's Arthur! It's the Prince!"

Leon's exclamation gripped them all to the marrow. Even Gwaine bolted to his feet and fought for a place at the empty storage room's barred window that overlooked the square. "What the hell are they going to do?" he muttered when he saw the Prince being dragged towards the pole.

Without understanding, the six men watched the proceedings until a window was opened on the palace's upper floor and Uther appeared in its frame.

With grand and pompous words, as if he was facing the full assembly of Camelot's aristocracy instead of his uncomprehending Druid prisoners and a bunch of Gaulish soldiers who didn't give a damn, the King described his son's abominable crimes. He mentioned the confession, in the Princes own words and with his signature, as eminent proof of them, together with Arthur's 'voluntary' relinquishment of his rights to the throne.

The King droned on about his son's alleged treason but Elyan no longer listened. "My sister. They must have blackmailed him into this 'confession' using Guinivere. As they used her to capture us." He kicked the wall in senseless anger.

"Much good we did the Prince by not running away as he had asked us to do" Leon voiced what had been tormenting him ever since they had been taken.

"Hush" Gaius said commandingly. The King obviously was about to proclaim the verdict.

"Having carefully considered all circumstances of this case" Uther said "we've come to the conclusion that nothing short of death would suffice to clean our name of this disgrace."

"Heavens above" Lance whispered.

"However" Uther continued after a short pause "our tender love and affection for our son has turned our heart towards mercy and understanding, albeit it could not be spent on a more undeserving, more despicable creature. We've therefore remembered that, before us, another King of Camelot has been faced with a similar predicament..…"

"Uther, no. Please. No." Percy turned with a questioning look when he heard Gaius' almost inaudible whisper and found the healer's face drained of all blood.

"King Osric found the strength to punish his son but he also found the mercy to spare his life" Uther meanwhile shouted bombastically. "This ancient ritual will be performed again today. Camelot's tradition of justice and order will once more prevail. Let this be a warning to everyone. The law will spare no man, no matter what his rank or station."

Uther said more, but Gaius turned on his heel and went away, as far away from the window as he could and sat down. He stared into nothingness while the others stayed where they were; Leon thunderstruck, the others not knowing what to think or say.

Only Gwaine went back to the old healer. Ever since Merlin had died, the knight felt somehow responsible for the old man. "What does that mean, Osric's ritual? What stupid nonsense has his fucking Majesty dug up now?"

"King Osric was a King of Camelot, centuries ago." Gaius said while Uther rambled on outside. "One of his twin sons betrayed him, or so he claimed. Osric gave order to break the boy's wrists, so that he would never wield a sword again. Then he had him branded with the Camelot Dragon on his chest. All should see that he had been condemned as a traitor. Finally he had the boy flogged with a nine tailed cat. 72 lashes. Half a dozen dozens. Miraculously the Prince survived but spent the rest of his miserable life in chains and incarcerated. Such was the ancient mercy of Camelot."

Gwaine recoiled from the physician, his eyes wide. "For the Gods' sake, why doesn't Arthur _say_ something? Can't he for once forget his stupid pride and _beg_?"

"He's gagged. It's part of the ritual." Leon's face was stony when he spoke, the knuckles of his hand that grabbed the bars were white. "Osric or Uther, it's unpleasant to hear one's son scream."

"But surely not even Uther would...?" For once Gwaine's voice and face spoke more of panic and horror than of irritation or sarcasm when he stared at Leon pleadingly, as if the banished knight somehow could prevent this from happening, if only he wanted to.

Leon shook his head. "Once branded with the dragon Arthur cannot succeed his father. That's what counts. It's a taboo that never has been broken."

"I think they're about to begin" Elyan interrupted his comrades.

And so they were.

Arthur was trembling in the grip of two hangmen as they untied his hands and forced his arms down on a wooden frame. Never before he had been that scared. He was breathing in small, hard gasps, his jaws and tongue desperately fighting against the gag that almost suffocated him. When they had forced the rag into his mouth, it had been dripping wet with some obnoxious, rank liquid that made the captive's head spin wildly as soon as he had swallowed the first drops.

The executioner raised the bludgeon to bring it down on his victim's wrists and Arthur tried to break free, panic and nausea stronger than anything else, but the sturdy brutes had his arms tied to the frame in no time. His eyes searched for the man at the window. This couldn't be true. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be his father who was watching the whole scene dispassionately!

Suddenly something bumped into the executioner, unbalancing the man, almost throwing him over his victim. "No. You mustn't do this. You have no right. You have no right to do this! Nobody has!"

Kicking and biting and screaming, Sim fought furiously against the much stronger, much bigger man, until the executioner had overcome his surprise and grabbed the attacker's neck as if the young Druid were nothing but a kitten, about to be drowned. For a moment the man held the boy in the air and looked at him, amused by Sim's violent attempts to get to him.

Finally he just threw him to the ground, set his foot on the boy's back and let his club crush the young Druid's skull as easily as he would have killed a fly.

From the Druid prisoners a collective low moan was to be heard when Sim died; almost like a soft growl. Then the square fell silent. It had all happened so very quickly, even the battle hardened Gaulish soldiers did not know what to make of it and kept silent.

Uncomprehending, Arthur looked at Sim's twisted body and his mutilated head. That the boy had known the stronghold like the back of his hand, that he had been hiding somewhere all this time until he finally came out and died in a hare-brained attempt to save his admired Prince – this thought came and went, but it brought no real understanding.

The executioner saw that the prisoner was distracted and thought that he'd already lost enough time as it was.

Arthur screamed under his gag, a horrible, muffled sound, when the bludgeon came down again and shattered his wrists with one precise blow.

This was the moment that Gwaine could no longer watch. He slumped down by Gaius' side and stayed there. However, he could close his eyes and he could press his hands on his ears but it wasn't enough to shut it all out. "I'm glad he's not here" he whispered. "Gods forgive me, I'm glad he's dead."

When the flogging finally began, Gwaine saw Gaius' lips moving. Against his will he listened. The healer was counting.

"Gods, end this" Leon whined. "He's out as a light, he doesn't stir."

"Then you should consider him lucky" Percival growled through gritted teeth.

"He's gone" Lancelot suddenly yelled. "Uther's no longer at the window!"

In this moment, Matilda's voice rang from the walls imperiously and the whip came to a halt.

When the executioner cut through the ropes that tied Arthur's broken arms to the whipping pole, Gaius had counted up to fifty.

Elyan retched and threw up. Nobody felt like blaming him for it.

Time dragged on endlessly after the Prince and the boy's body had been dragged away. Only the blood remained, qucickly surrounded by a cloud of flies. The six men didn't talk much. Not even Gwaine was in a mood to ridicule Leon who was sitting on the ground, his head in his hands.

After a while Lancelot jumped to his feet and began to circle the room like a captured animal. Elyan watched him, pity in his face, before he joined him. "I'm sure they haven't harmed her. All Uther wanted was his son's downfall and that he has got."

Lance pushed Elyan's arm away violently. "Stop deluding yourself, you fool" he shouted. "Uther will never let her live. She will be the next one to be tied to this damned stick out there. And then all of us, one after another. The bloody monster will make his son watch, you'll see."

"I don't think he will."

The men darted around to see Malcolm of Saltyre and a handful of guard soldiers standing in the door. _Camelot_ guard soldiers, for once. The handful that Uther had taken with him to Devil's Claw because they were the last ones of his own men he still trusted.

"Gaius" Branguard said. "I think there's someone in dire need of your help."

For a moment, all just stared. Gwaine was the first to regain his voice and his usual ruthless candour. "I see you have kissed Uther's ass enough to regain His Majesty's favour. I should have known!"

Ignoring the young man, Gaius rose and made ready to follow Branguard when Lance shot past him, grabbing Malcolm by the collar. "Take me to Guinivere. At once! Or I swear, I'll….."

"You what?" Malcolm asked sternly, waving at his guards to stay as they were. "You and your valiant friends kill the at least fifty of the Gaulish guards between you and her with your bare hands? You're welcome to try. Go and raise the alarm. Make sure that she gets Uther's full attention."

Lancelot's arms fell down and he turned away.

As if he had never been interrupted, Gaius made his way to where Branguard was waiting. "Shall we go? I presume it is the Prince whom you want me to tend to?"

"Yes" Malcolm said and stepped aside to let the healer pass.

"Gaius..." Gwaine said alarmed and made haste to follow the old man who winced as he saw Malcolm's companions training their weapons at the young knight.

"Stay where you are" the healer snapped at Gwaine and the others. "Last time I checked _I _was the healer here!"

Gwaine looked around desperately but the others did not stir when the door was once more slammed shut into their faces.

"I wonder why Matilda should call a healer to the Prince's side. And by you, of all people" the physician said coldly while they hasted towards their destination.

"She may have wanted to but someone else preempted her" Malcolm said, his jaws clenched.

"Who?"

"You'll see but you won't believe it."

Irritated by the enigmatic words Gaius wanted to ask for an explanation but he was silenced by the sight that presented itself to him when he entered the Prince's room. Bent over Arthur's still form on the bed stood nobody else but Uther Pendragon, his sister at his side.

In the very first moment the shock of seeing a centuries-old taboo broken dominated Gaius' mind. "Sire, you mustn't...How dare you...?"

"Gaius, he's dying."

At first, the healer doubted his own sanity. Uther was crestfallen, utterly devastated. Tears were in the King's eyes while his hand rested on Arthur's forehead. Surely what Gaius had seen and heard earlier must have been some kind of bad joke, or some magical hallucination. This grief-stricken, heart-broken father could not have given the order to torture his own son to death only some hours ago. It simply wasn't possible!

"Don't you hear what I'm saying? Arthur's _dying._ For heaven's sake, _do_ something."

"But, how did you...how could you..." for once in his life the old, wise, much learned physician stumbled over his words – and his thoughts – like a brainless imbecile.

"For the Gods' love, I relied on you being here afterwards, otherwise I'd thought twice before I had Arthur exposed to the damned ritual. Don't stand there gawking. Heal him!"

"You did not think _twice_ before you sentenced your son to suffer this punishment?" It was ridiculous under the circumstances, utterly superfluous and childish, but for some mysterious reason this seemed to be one of the most important questions Gaius had ever brought up in his life.

"Great Mother, grant me patience" the King said while he grabbed Gaius' arm and pushed him to his patient's side forcibly.

The physician looked down on the young man's body. The upper part of Arthur's pants was blood-soaked, the shirt had been ripped off by the executioner. He lay on his belly, the appalling burnt-in stigma on his chest only partly visible, his twisted arms with the smashed wrists in front of him. For all the long years of medical experience with all kinds of battle wounds Gaius covered his mouth with one hand when he took a closer look at the Prince's back. Where once had been strong muscles and smooth, fair skin was now a horrible mass of partly dried, partly fresh blood, torn tissue and burst flesh. "_Heavens, what a mess_" he thought.

"Surely you see why no ordinary healer will do" Uther said urgently, pressing for immediate activity. "I admit I did not remember the...full scope of the ritual. But you remember, don't you. You remember enough of the old times to do what's necessary."

Swallowing repeatedly to keep his stomach down, Gaius gaze wandered to Arthur's head that lay on his left arm, his face turned towards them. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and infrequent. But his features were relaxed for all the excruciating pain these wounds had to cause. It seemed to the physician that this young man was beyond all earthly torment already.

"_No_" Gaius thought. "_Not this time. There must be an end to every evil in this world. Even to a King's mendacity_." Slowly the healer shook his head in denial. "For once show him mercy, Uther. You've denied him life but not even you can deny him a peaceful death."

The King winced and his face contorted. "What are you talking about, you fool? I relied on your abilities to claim him back from hell itself. Like you did with Morgana. _Heal him_, damn you!"

"For what, you bloodthirsty, unnatural monster?" Gaius yelled at the top of his voice. "He's barely 24. How many years in your dungeons should I give him? 30? 40?"

Uther's sword was out and at Gaius' throat in the blink of an eye. I'll show you..."

But the King could not go on. His blade hung in the air, all movement suspended. His eyes went wide and breath began to rattle in his throat. Slowly, very slowly his legs gave way and he fell to his knees while his sword clattered to the ground. Wide eyed he stared at his life-long friend while the healer's' eyes lost the last of their golden shimmer.

"Don't, Gaius" Matilda said, very softly. "If he were in your shoes, he'd feel better afterwards. You won't." Cautiously, tentatively her fingers touched the old man's outstretched arm before her head snapped round. "As you were, Lord Saltyre!"

Malcolm hesitated, his blade already in his hand.

"You haven't seen our healer friend in his prime" she said. "_I_ have. Put that toothpick back where it belongs."

"But he'll kill him" Branguard protested, shocked and appalled by seeing the trusted Court Physician using magic against his King.

"Yes, and you too if he so chooses. Now _stand down_!"

Suddenly Uther fell to the floor, face down. He was coughing and gasping for air, unable to speak as she bent down to him. "It's your heart again,isn't it" she muttered soothingly. "There, there, my dear. You drink this and you'll feel better, I promise."

Both men watched her, impassive the one and horrified the other, while she poured a potion she took from her skirt into her brother's greedily opened mouth.

As she rose, Uther stayed down, out as a light. "This should do the trick for a while" she said softly. "At least he won't remember much of what has happened."

She went to the door and called in the guards. "His Majesty is indisposed. Another heart attack. Take him to his room."

Shyly they bowed and the older one's eyes went to the bed behind her. The man paled considerably.

"And remember, the King has never been here. Is that clear?"

Again, the guard's gaze flickered across the room to Arthur. "Very clear, My Lady."

She locked the door from the inside behind them and turned back to find Gaius sitting on the bed at Arthur's side, while Malcolm had retired to the far corner of the room, watching the physician warily like an exotic but dangerous animal.

"Thank you, Gaius" she said, patting his shoulder lightly as she came back to him. "It would have been...premature."

He hadn't even heard her. His thoughts were solely with the young man who was dying before his very eyes. And with another young man who had lost his life already, trying to fulfil a destiny that would never come true.

"It was me who held him first when he came into this world" Gaius said, to no one in particular. "It was me who closed his mother's eyes that day. His father cursed him even then."

"I remember" she answered. "It was in Uther's first letter to me after Igraine had died. He never mentioned it again, though. He spoke only about the great achievement his son was. Sometimes I was jealous, on my Becco's behalf."

Gaius shrugged and her hand fell off his shoulder. "Did you trick Uther into believing that I'd be here to save his son from the consequences of his father's idiocy?"

"No" she replied quietly. "It was Branguard. Heaven may know how he knew you'd be captured in time. He kept quiet about the others, though. If my brother were to know that Guinivere and Arthur's men are here..."

"I know" Gaius interrupted her brusquely.

"Arthur has still so much to live for" she said musingly. "There's the girl. And her child. I wanted to take the three of them with me to the Auvergne, you know."

Against his will, Gaius took interest in her last remark.

"To what purpose?"

"Call it my idea of a suitable penance for my sins. They'd been well treated."

"You've always had a talent for combining business and pleasure" the healer replied bitterly. "Or in this case, gaining a valuable hostage and deluding yourself that your conscience is clean while you're robbing Arthur of his freedom and his birthright."

"You can't expect me to do more. Nor can you blame me for having _my_ son's interests at heart. Uther has always pursued his interests recklessly. You never blamed him for it. Anyway, it's all academic now."

Gaius bit his lip. Hope. It was a thing damned hard to kill. "_He's barely 24_" his own words echoed in his mind. "_So many years still to come for him._"

Uther wasn't immortal. Matilda neither. And as for dear Becco after they both were dead...It was a long time since Gaius had as much as _thought_ about murdering someone, but this time..."_Merlin, what would you do if you were here now?_" the healer asked in his mind. But the young sorcerer stayed silent.

In this very second, Arthur stirred and his right hand, incredibly given the state his wrists were in, moved a few inches until it reached Gaius' hand on the sheet. Reflexively his fingers closed around the physician's thumb and he moaned softly in his sleep, a forlorn, helpless sound.

This did it.

"Lady Matilda, I need boiled water. Lots of it. Clean linnen and bandages. "And my bag. It..."

"Take your second one" Malcolm interrupted the physician. "I found it on the day we arrived here, with herbs and potions an' all." He grinned wryly, albeit hesitantly. "Must I remind you that it was my saddler who made these bags for you special?"

"Get out of my way, you young rascal" Gaius gnarled and Malcolm withdrew to his former place obediently, still not willing to confront a suddenly very unfamiliar Court Physician.

Gaius examined his patient more closely after he had cautiously freed his hand from the weak grip. The physician frowned when he was done, dissatisfied. He sniffed the air once or twice, then he took the scarf with which the rag in Arthur's mouth had been secured earlier. It still hung around his neck. The physician smelled it and made a questioning face.

"I put a sedative on his gag. It took away some of the pain but I'm afraid it didn't protect his body" Matilda hastily explained.

"I bet it hasn't. By the way, you could have used something more sophisticated than this crude old witches' stuff. I've taught you better once, as I remember."

"I lacked time and ingredients" she snapped back. She did not mention that she was running low on supplies because her 'remedies' for her brother had sadly depleted her stock.

After a few additional examinations Gaius straightened his back. "I think I should concentrate on his inner injuries first."

"There's no time for a _conventional_ treatment" Matilda said urgently.

Gaius did not trouble himself with answering her, He felt his magic, still roused and excited from the earlier attack on the King, stirring restlessly inside him, a once familiar, long since abandoned exhilaration.

The healer went into his own mind and memory, back to the days he had accompanied a young King into battle. Then to even earlier days, when a young adept had been studying in the healers' temple. From somewhere deep inside him, a spell came back to him, then another.

Nevertheless, out of practice as he was and forced to remember things while on the job, it took him almost an hour before the most dangerous injuries had been dealt with. The remaining wounds would still be extremely painful, but, provided that they did not fester, they would not be lethal. With his last strength, Gaius healed the worst damage the bludgeon had done to Arthur's wrists before he slumped down on his patient's bed, completely exhausted. Much was still to do, very much. But it would have to wait.

"You should eat" Matilda said reasonably. "There's something in the next room. I had it brought for me a few hours ago. You won't be of much use to anyone if you collapse."

"What about you?" Gaius could have kicked his own bottom for that. This last hour had brought back memories of the time when a beautiful, innocent young Princess had been eager to learn as much about medicine as he could teach her. This woman was long gone. Why should anyone care if the murderous serpent that now bore her name was cared for or not?

"I have my prospects for the future to keep me warm and entertained" she answered dismissively and they both knew what she was talking about.

Without another word Gaius left her with his – in a way her – charge and joined the younger Branguard, who had found shelter from the stench of blood as well as from the occasional sound the treatment had wrenched from the wounded man at the dinner table.

"What are you still doing here?" the physician asked not too friendly. It still rattled him that Malcolm should know about him using magic. The Lord of Saltyre was an amiable enough guy in normal times but he was also a blabbermouth – and a reckless pursuer of his and his brother's interests.

"Waiting for an opportunity to speak to you in private" Branguard answered in a low voice.

"First you tell me how Uther could know that I'd be here even before he gave the order for Osric's ritual."

"As I said, I found your bag" Malcolm said impatiently. "I knew you had been here and I know you too well – at least that's what I thought..."

Malcolm hesitated and flinched when Gaius made an angry face, before he made haste to blabber the rest of his story out.

"Well, I know you too well to think that'd you'd abandoned Arthur for good. I bribed some of Uther's men to search for you. The King I told that you were on your way here. Naturally the fucking idiots I sent found you just in time to watch you and the others being arrested by Matilda's men."

"Why did you search for me in the first place? By then you did not know what Uther would do to his son."

"I wanted you for Uther's sake, not for Arthur's. After what I've made up to distract Pendragon from going after my brother, my life and honour are lost, for sure. But the King can still be persuaded to pardon Angus. From Matilda and her precious son my brother can expect no forgiveness. He was the one who once told Uther about her secret love affair."

"So what?" Gaius found that he couldn't have cared less about this classic version of a Camelot court intrigue.

"Since he has disowned his son, only Uther can protect Angus from the murderous bitch. And she's poisoning her brother. I'm sure of it."

"_Tell me something I do not know_" Gaius wanted to say. The signs he had seen on Uther had been unmistakable. Instead he inhaled deeply and looked straight into Branguard's face. "She's got my blessings" he said.

Malcolm was too dumbfounded by this to find an immediate reply and he was still speechlessly gawking when Gaius took a piece of bread and some dried meat from the table and went back to his patient.

In this very second, the whirlwind that suddenly filled the bedroom hit him with full force. Matilda yelped when she was slammed against the wall.

The last thing Gaius saw was a female body, bent over Arthur's still form on the bed, an impatient frown on her beautiful face in which the eyes were flashing the fiery, intense golden light of magic.

Then his vision blackened and he fell to the ground.

Without any further ruffle or excitement, Morgana turned back to her brother.


	19. A Druid's sin

**A/N: I've thought long and hard whether I should publish another chapter now, at a time in which a whole country is caught up in a nightmarish catastrophe. The kind of catastrophe that stays on one's mind, if one is looking TV or Internet or doing something completely different. But finally I thought that whether I publish this or not, nothing will change in Japan; nothing will get better, nothing will get worse from this.**

**So, while my thoughts are with the people in Japan I nevertheless feel entitled to say: Read and enjoy.**

**19. A Druid's sin**

"I can't believe he's that foolish" Algernon said with a disbelieving huff. "It must be a trap, otherwise that'd be bordering on suicide."

"Did I ever tell you how unnerving continuous distrust can be in a friend?" Morgwyn retorted irritably.

"For a Druid distrust is essential for survival. And I did not know that we are friends."

Armand of Morgwyn heaved a silent sigh and tried again to explain his reasoning to the aggravated Druid. "As I said, Uther depends on showing off the impressive victory over the Druids he and Hortensius have achieved. As I know Camelot - the servants' chatter, the soldiers' gossiping, everyone is somehow connected with almost everyone else - word of what has happened to Arthur will outpace Uther's homecoming. People will _not_ be pleased, and no helpless Prince can be forced to confirm Uther's allegations."

"It's most gratifying that my people are so very useful to the King." Algernon's embitterment was impossible to overhear.

In a rare pang of guilt and sympathy the High Master chose to let this remark go unchallenged. Instead he gave all his attention to the scene in front of Devil Claw. It was an impressive enough sight, 700 Gaulish soldiers herding along the two hundred Druids. The prisoners had their wrists bound to their waists and were tied together by their necks, even the children. "_Must have been a day's work, to truss up two hundred people like that_" Armand thought derisively.

Algernon startled the sorcerer out of his thoughts. "By the way, how come that you're willing to aid us in this? I would have thought you'd find another way to lay your hands on the Prince's friends. They're your main objective, are they not?"

"Naturally. But why not save your people in one go, if Uther is presenting them to us on a silver platter?"

"My most humble apologies, High Master" Algernon said without a single shred of remorse. "I thought you'd go through life without a conscience. Now I see you just let it rest most of the time. My, it must be bright eyed and bushy tailed, after so much sleep."

"Who's got much sleep?" Bodmin chimed in while he approached them from behind. His nasty tone strongly suggested that it had not been him who'd had a good night's rest.

"My Lord Baron just mentioned how important sleep is for a man's good humour" Algernon replied smoothly.

"Do you spot your brother, Angus?" Ravenclaw interrupted the Druid. Maybe Algernon enjoyed these little duels with the somewhat slow-thinking Earl but Branguard was uncomfortable enough around the Druids without them.

Bodmin scrutinized the long band of people carefully. "There he is. Directly behind Uther. Do you see him?" The utter relief in this exclamation brought a smile to Ravenclaw's face. "Clever young rascal, your Malcolm. Must somehow have avoided Uther's first wrath then."

"That's as maybe. I will neither have rest nor peace before he's with me" Branguard growled worriedly.

"I know how you feel'" Algernon said wholeheartedly, and it brought him the first friendly gaze from Bodmin since they had met.

Ravenclaw lost his patience. "Oh, stop the prattle. Where the hell are Arthur's Knights?"

To that, nobody knew an answer, for all their staring and searching the slowly marching human tapeworm up and down.

The Baron inhaled deeply. "We would have to be closer to see more" he said. "As this means we lose our cover I say we try to reach the Druid prisoners first and hope for the best."

"Time for our overture then." Algernon turned away to reach his men in their hiding place.

"Good luck" Bodmin said to the Druid's back and Algernon waved over his shoulder. "Do you think they'll do their job right, Alriand? Heavens, our 70 men against Uther's 700; their full armour and full bellies against what we had on our backs when we left and our empty stomachs."

"If the Druids fail we're dead. So there's nothing to discuss!"

While an insulted Bodmin fell into a sulking silence, Uther turned round and watched the columns of men that followed him and Hortensius. "You're sure you've done everything to safeguard the prisoners? My son always..."

"I've posted my best men at our flanks. The idea of Druid magicians hiding in this brushwood while we are herding their people down this gorge gives me the creep too, uncle." With an effort, Becco kept his composure. If the King would mention his damned son just _once_ more...

"Doubtlessly Comte Hortensius has made all necessary precautions." As usual, Gaius reasonable, calm voice at his side did wonders for Uther's stretched nerves. Malcolm marvelled at the exactness of Matilda's prediction as to her brother's memory of what had happened between him and the healer three days ago, just before Arthur and Gwen had vanished into thin air. Branguard admired the Comtess' nerve just as much. She had told Uther that Arthur had been abducted by an old Druid sorcerer. Not a word about the King's daughter.

"The Druids are cowards, Becco" Uther now said with more confidence, keeping his fear of another sort of magicians to himself. "They never fight back."

Before Hortensius could ask why then they were considered a threat to Camelot lethal enough to be killed on sight, his horse shied and he was almost dismounted when all hell broke loose.

Horses, mules and men screamed in a cacophony of voices as the ground under their feet was heaved by invisible giant hands while the ravine's hillsides slid down like waterfalls of dust and rocks. With wide, terrified eyes Becco glanced at the all consuming firewall that came up in an instant, cutting him and the leading troop off from the prisoners and the main force.

Uther shouted something unintelligible at his nephew while he desperately tried to regain control of his horrified mare. Magic! The very same people who had abducted his son now tried to get through to him!

Mercilessly the King kicked his spurs into the horse's sides and the terrified animal jumped forward, bucking and kicking frantically until she had finally freed herself of her rider. From one second to another, the King of Camelot found himself alone, surrounded by the firewall from all sides. He screamed for help that did not come until his voice broke.

Becco and his men did not fare much better. The young Comte pulled his sword, resolved to sell his life at the highest possible price when dark, disfigured shadows jumped them from somewhere inside the firewalls, howling like creatures escaped from hell. Like a madman Hortensius wielded his blade, cutting and thrusting through them without bringing one of them down. He'd lost sight of his companions completely by the time he fell to his knees, utterly exhausted and defenceless. His weapon had somehow got lost. He sobbed helplessly while the dark shadows closed in on him. When the first monster raised its ghastly claw and touched his face, Becco's eyes closed and his body went limp.

Gaius saw Uther be thrown but he had other worries. From the beginning of what could only be a concerted attack of Druid magic, he had looked out for Gwaine and the other captured Knights who, with Matilda's support, were hidden among the Druid prisoners. As soon as the firewall had circled the group around the King, Gaius used his own magic to keep his horse under control. Effortlessly the mount jumped through the illusionary firewall it did not even see and carried its rider towards the Druids.

As he had expected, some Druids had already reached their captive compatriots and were busy cutting through their restraints. The Gaulish guards were effectively caught up in their useless shadow fencing all around the frantic prisoners. At first sight the healer perceived the biggest disadvantage of Algernon's otherwise clever distraction: The soldiers were wielding their weapons in a desperate fight for their lives – or so they thought – oblivious of everything and everyone around them. Two Druid women and one little boy were already down, killed by warriors who hadn't even seen them die or heard their desperate pleas.

Gaius reached Gwaine and Leon just in time to see the Druids cut through their bonds. As they had been the last Knights to be freed, the five men now scattered and attacked the Gaulish from behind. Barely a minute later, every Knight had a sword in his hand and a writhing or already still enemy at his feet. Arthur's insistence on training barehanded fighting surely bore fruit.

Gaius grabbed one of the Druid liberators by his shoulder. "How long can your people keep this up?" he yelled through the clamour of the ghostly battle.

"A few more minutes at most" the young man shouted back desperately. "We must cut as much people off as possible and bring them through the gap before the illusion fails us." He pointed at the only real change in the scenery – a wide gap in the hillside that until now had closed the ravine's left side. "Our best magicians will keep the gap hidden from sight as soon as the High... Baron Ravenclaw's men are through to finish as many Gaulish off as possible before they have to withdraw" the Druid continued hectically, never ceasing to free hands and necks as they came into his reach.

In spite of their grim situation, Gaius smiled lightly. There was no need to hide Ravenclaw's real identity from him. There never had been. The two sorcerers at Uther's Court – before a third one had secretly joined their ranks – had been acquainted well enough to give each other a wide berth.

"Gwaine. Leon. To me!" Gaius shouted commandingly and miraculously they actually heard and obeyed him. The six of them joined the Druids who were still cutting their people off until they began to withdraw with their rescued compatriots towards the gap that already seemed to become smaller. All pressed their backs as close to the rocks as possible when suddenly a cavalcade of armed men on horseback passed them by at top speed.

As Ravenclaw, Angus Branguard and their men savaged the Gaulish, Uther's troops were already in disarray and full flight. Many of the desperate, hysteric men ran into the rest of the Druid prisoners who were still tied together. Camelot's former Court Physician heard the wretched people's frantic screams for help when he and the others pulled back through the hills.

"Gaius, we can't leave them" Leon screamed, already turning back.

"Stop right there, you young idiot!" For once forgetting his respectful and conciliatory manners towards the Knights of Camelot, the healer laid every shred of authority he could muster into these words. "Nobody will be better off if you are killed. Now keep moving!"

"But they're dying, damn you. Don't you hear them? The children..."

"As Gwaine said, you've never cared about Druid kids before. There's more than enough innocent blood on your own hands, now move your hypocritical arse!" Gaius did not know whether to bless or to curse his cruelty when Leon paled, lowered his head and followed the others towards safety without another word.

Gwaine cocked both brows at his healer friend before he joined his usual victim of choice. He even tried to lay an arm around Leon's shoulder but the other man shrugged him off violently.

Gaius, his friends and the freed Druids had reached Algernon's lines when Ravenclaw and his men broke off their attack and raced back to the hills and to safety. Some of the men had another freed Druid on their horses. Even so, it were grievously few people that made it to the hidden Druid encampment's safety after the magicians had covered the gap in the ravine's edge from sight.

"Leon. Gaius. Thank heaven you're safe!" Ravenclaw, closely followed by the two Branguards, jumped from his foaming horse, only to be knocked to the ground by the enraged Knight. "You dare show your face, you godforsaken traitor! I'll have your hide for abandoning the Prince!"

In the last second the Baron parried the mad attack of Leon's sword, but doing it he stumbled backwards, tripped over a stone and fell to the ground.

"Damn you, I don't have time for this" Ravenclaw yelled at the top of his voice while Leon went in for the kill with a triumphant howl. The Knight only stopped when he found himself in the merciless magical grip of two Druids.

"Much as I myself would like to see the colour of My Lord Baron's inside, I fear we still have need of him" Algernon said, not unkindly. "So Your Lordship would oblige me by handing your sword to me."

"But the lousy bastard has betrayed us. Arthur was almost killed. Maybe he _is_ dead!" Leon looked around him frantically, only to see his companions restrained by other Druids.

"The Prince and Guinivere are safe. Or so I'm told." Algernon gave Ravenclaw a meaningful side glance which the High Master chose to ignore.

"Trouble among comrades in arms?" Bodmin, virtually hilarious with relief that he had found his brother in one piece, couldn't hide the fact that he found the sight of his old enemy lying sprawled on the ground very amusing.

The Baron scrambled to his feet and dusted his clothes, all the while glaring at the Earl who was still chuckling menacingly. "You better keep your mouth shut or Malcolm is going to be a single child, you idiot" Ravenclaw growled and Saltyre thought it wise to put a stop to the unfriendly banter.

"It was...kind of you to come back for us once my brother had been dismounted" he said. "You risked your life for Angus and me."

"I didn't do it for free" was the disgruntled answer. "I want to ask a favour of you both. Go back to Bodmin Castle, stuff your vaults with all the provisions you can get, take in your people, pull up the drawbridge, triple your guards on the battlement and wait for word from me. Take these gallant imbeciles with you." The last sentence was accompanied by a dismissive gesture towards Leon and the other four Knights of the Round Table.

"Like hell we will…." Leon started to say, only to feel his voice fade away against his will while an angry golden light flashed from the eyes of the man he as much as the other Camelot nobles knew only as Alriand of Ravenclaw.

"Yes, Sir Leon, like hell you will risk your skin for a lost cause. Neither Uther nor his deranged nephew nor his bitch of a sister will be able to keep Camelot much longer and when they've foozled it all, Arthur will have need of you. Until then, you'll sit tight in Bodmin Castle or our Druid friends will find a more uncomfortable place to secure you."

"Our friends" Malcolm echoed, almost as dumbfounded as his gawking brother. "Druids. Sorcerers. Like you."

"Yes, I am a sorcerer. What difference does it make? Are you no longer grateful for your life because your arse has been saved by magic?" Armand's temper was boiling inside him. Idiots. Mindless mouth-breathers. No knowledge about nothing but would they keep their big mouths shut? No, of course not.

Slowly Malcolm looked directly into Morgwyn's – to him still Ravenclaw's – aggravated eyes. He visibly pondered what the sorcerer had said, and then he nodded. "We can't be friends after all that's happened in the past" he said "but I'm sure we're on the same side now, for better or for worse." A handshake sealed the new alliance between the young nobleman and the sorcerer who had almost the whole Branguard family on his conscience.

"Malcolm, how dare you…."

"Oh do be quiet, Angus. You've been riding at his side for many a week now and still our father has not yet risen from his grave to haunt us!" Resolutely Malcolm grabbed his brother's arm and shoved him forward; an act so very outrageous that Bodmin was too speechless to protest until they had reached the tree line and some meagre privacy.

At least the others could now pretend to not be aware of the heated debate between the two brothers.

"Elder brother, what are we to do with our guests?" one of the younger Druids asked and, reluctantly, Algernon decided that he had more pressing business than pondering the mysteries of aristocratic behaviour.

"Sir Leon, your sword please" the Druid leader said to the Knights who, with the exception of Lancelot, were much too dumbfounded by the incomprehensible events around them to object. "That goes for all of you. I do not allow weapons in our camps. You won't need them anyhow while you're with us, I promise."

They were outnumbered at least 20 to one by proved, experienced magicians and they didn't understand anything of what was happening here. They looked at each other and then, albeit hesitantly, they handed their weapons over to the waiting Druids.

"Are they with you then?" Leon asked hopefully, his eyes darting around for the two people he felt most responsible for in this world.

It took Algernon a moment to understand that the Knight was talking about Arthur and his wife.

"No, Sir Leon" he answered, hating to see the hopeful expression on the man's face fade away. "I was told they're well but nothing more."

However, Leon and the others did not have much time to ponder this answer.

Uncharacteristically, Gaius had neither intervened when Leon had attacked Ravenclaw nor when the Druids had restrained the five young men. While around him swords had clashed and tempers had run high, the healer had been absorbed in a conversation with one of Ravenclaw's men. Now he suddenly broke it off and grabbed his bag and stuff, as far as he had been able to take them with him during their mad flight.

"High Master, I think there's no time to lose" he said urgently and Armand answered him with a curt smile. "The sooner you get there, the better" he confirmed. "But you won't need your stuff; she's got everything in store, except a healer who's worth his keep."

"Doesn't do her much credit" Gaius snapped. It earned him a derisive snort from the High Master. "_You_ chose to change sides some twenty years ago, remember?"

Angrily mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, the healer shrugged impatiently. "Are we going or not?"

"Hey, are you going somewhere?" So far the Knights had thought it wise to keep quiet and bide their time but now that Gaius looked as if he was to leave, Gwaine quickly changed his mind. However, the physician didn't look back before he and Armand vanished in a whirlwind of dried leaves, dust and screaming air a split second later.

Gwaine yelped with anger and sudden fear. Damned, this had lasted long enough now. He would not stand by and watch his friends being taken, hell knew where and to what purpose.

Algernon watched his men doing their best to subdue the five angry young men without hurting them and he breathed more freely when they were finally secured in one of the tents until the two Branguards would decide to depart. At least that was what the Druid leader sincerely hoped, albeit the still audible shouting from somewhere behind the trees made that a bit doubtful.

Finally the Druids found the time to take stock of their own people and problems. They counted and counted again. 137 people they had got out. 137 out of 200. For the rest there was next to no hope.

Some of his people rejoiced in seeing their relatives again and Algernon sent a silent prayer to heaven that those who searched the ranks of the freed captives in vain would never learn _why_ he really had sent their loved ones into Devil's Claw in the first place.

63 of his people lost. 63 men, women and children he had sacrificed for the High Master's scheme to make Arthur's alleged conspiracy with the Druids more convincing for Uther without actually giving up the Druid tribes' hiding places or some real magicians to the vengeful King.

For some precious hours, while his people made ready to move to another place, Algernon hid away in the forest and cried for every single one of his lost tribesmen. For once he could not derive comfort from his people's old legends. World looked too bleak for that. And Emrys seemed to have left it, never to return. "A Prince of the Isle" the Druid spat "There's people and there's Druids. It'll never change."

When he had washed his face in a cold rivulet nearby and put on his usual mildly ironic expression, he walked back to his people and found them ready to depart, all but a small group that had volunteered to stay behind for the inevitable burials. Friend or foe – nobody should rot in next day's sunlight like an animal's carcass.

Algernon looked at Leon, who avoided his gaze and kicked against a tree angrily. Obviously Percy, Elyan and Lancelot weren't too happy either, but apparently they all had decided to accompany the Branguards to their stronghold for the time being.

All but one, naturally. Under Leon's most severe stare Gwaine walked over to the Druid leader; his expression a peculiar, if very endearing, mixture of sympathy, cheekiness and a cautious smile.

"I've heard how many people you've lost" he said. "I'm sorry. I wish we'd...well, we all are sorry. Don't take it out on Leon; he's mourning the loss of everything he's held dear."

"That makes two of us" Algernon snapped back.

"That's what I'm saying." Gwaine dug his foot into the ground, unsure of how best to proceed. "By the way, I've heard some funny talk. Are you in trouble?"

"I'll have to answer to the elders of our tribes for what I've done yesterday. They'll hold me responsible for each and everyone who's died."

Gwaine wasn't very pleased with this answer and it showed. As he saw it, Algernon was the one who stood between him and a renewed life of restless wandering, without people, a place or some purpose that belonged to him and he wasn't very fond of such a life, not anymore. Besides, the Druids were still his best chance to find Gaius and Merlin's most favourite Royals again. No use to wait for My Lord Ravenclaw to keep or not keep his word. "I hope your elders won't ignore that you've saved the majority of your captured people."

"It's not our dead I'll have to answer for" Algernon retorted. "It's the enemy's."

"_Why?_!"

"Druids are not supposed to fight, let alone kill. I had no right to do what I did."

Blunt as usual, Gwaine came to the point directly. "What did your elders expect you to do? Stand by and watch your people die?"

"Yes" Algernon said. "That's exactly what our laws obliged me to do."

A deeply shocked Gwaine cleared his throat, feeling horribly embarrassed that he should trouble the other man with his own selfish wishes. And yet there was too much at stake for him. "Would you….I mean, I'm not very partial to sitting tight with old Angus until your august High Master pops up. I'd rather go with you."

"What do your friends say to that?"

"Leon will miss me like a pain in the ass and the others – well, not for the world I'd miss the next great battle for the love of Camelot and that's all they care about."

Dispassionately, the Druid shrugged. "You can do as you please. If you want to join us rather than your own kind, you're welcome."

"Well, thank you then. I guess." Gwaine shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Damn it, he wasn't cut out for so serious a conversation. Where were Gaius with his wise words or Arthur with his sombre attitude when one needed them?

Algernon looked at him and found it necessary to give his opinion a bit more emphasis. "You _are_ most welcome, Sir Gwaine. And let me explain something to you. In my time I've known High Priestesses, Sorcerers, Dragon Lords, Princes, Kings and the Great Dragon himself. But nowhere in this world I've found someone who genuinely cared about me and my people until I met, of all people, Uther Pendragon's son."

Satisfied that this explained everything Algernon turned away and left it for the confused warrior to decide what to make of it.

When the other four Knights mounted the horses of some of Bodmin's killed men, Gwaine watched them with his usual lopsided grin.

"Are you sure you do not want to come with us?" Lancelot was visibly troubled with leaving their friend behind.

"Don't get your hopes up, Lance. I'll retake Camelot single-handed while you're still polishing your armour." Neither of them thought it necessary to mention that it was a troublesome thought that they may have to take Camelot from King Uther himself.

Leon passed Gwaine by without so much as a side-glance. Only when they had reached the last place from which the abandoned campsite could be seen, Camelot's former head Knight looked back, but by then Gwaine and the Druids had already vanished among the trees. "_Good luck, you reckless scoundrel_" Leon thought. "_I wonder which one of us has made the better choice._"

It was a very concerned Leon who followed the Branguards westwards to Bodmin castle, hoping with all his heart that trusting the more and more enigmatic Ravenclaw had been the right decision.

It would have been hardly a comfort to anyone, but Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, was not much happier in this very moment.

With an abominably reduced force of 200 able and almost as many wounded men, the shabby rest of the once intimidating 700 soldiers they'd arrived with, Uther and his relatives trudged through the sinking night eastwards towards Camelot Castle.

As the soldiers had still been confused and exhausted from the battle against fire and shadows, Ravenclaw's men had had an easy job of killing their victims on first strike. Many Gaulish, dead or wounded, had their injuries in their backs, not from cowardice but from confusion. When the dust had settled, hundreds of dead Gaulish soldiers had littered the ravine's ground. The attackers had apparently vanished into thin air, taking most of the Druid prisoners with them.

Some thirty captives had still been standing, mourning their dead comrades, desperately trying to free themselves and their wounded compatriots. When Uther had given order to kill them all on the spot, the ensuing slaughter had not been nice to behold but he had been grateful that it had at least ensured control over the remaining soldiers. They had taken their rage out on the prisoners and afterwards they had been tame again.

Matilda was very quiet. She shared her attention and her last strength between her injured son and silently cursing her brother's idiocy. She dreaded the homecoming with nothing to show for the effort but a once again vanished Prince and a force that looked of nothing less than total defeat. How the opposition in Camelot would sneer at that – and rejoice at the public wrath this humiliating show of failure would doubtlessly bring about. Now that even Gaius and Arthur's Knights were gone, the chances to get hold of her nephew once again were practically nil.

While he showed the world a brave face, Uther's thoughts walked very similar paths. Fear of death and the heat of battle had cleared his mind for a change and he was stupefied with horror at what he had done. His recollection of Osric's ritual was sketchy at best but even so it was like a dull pain that continuously throbbed in the back of his mind. That he had no idea where and how Arthur was now didn't help much.

However, though his son was never far from his mind, his thoughts had begun to revolve around what this disaster would mean for him as soon as he got home.

"Fire" Becco suddenly yelled, looking back at Devil's Claw from the hilltop they'd just reached. "The castle is on fire." He was in pain and with worry Matilda realized that fever of infection had already set in.

"That's them Druids burning the dead" one of only three surviving Camelot guards said. "Always have and always will do. Many of their villages we've ransacked, but we've never caught them all. Always there was a fire in the dark afterwards. T'was like a message to us. A beacon."

"Shut your big mouth!" Uther said angrily. The man shrugged indifferently and fell back into his former silent musing while his King could not get rid of the terrifying thought that this time the Druids' burial fires might be a beacon of doom. _His_ doom.

For the first time in more than three decades Uther Pendragon's heart beat heavily in his chest, not from illness, not from grief alone, not from wrath. From another emotion, one he wasn't used to. What constricted his throat and made his stomach flutter was naked, shameful, utterly humiliating.

Fear!


	20. Sanctuary

**20. Sanctuary**

Arthur watched Guinivere laughing and playing with their little daughter Margaly in her lap and mused how easily he could think that all was for the best in the best of all possible worlds.

Winter had come and gone and by now spring showered them with warm sunlight in a garden that was nothing less than perfect. They were surrounded by total harmony and peace, fully furnished with birds chirping, squirrels running and the wind softly humming in the magnificent trees that hid the strong eastern battlements of Doloreux Castle from sight.

"_I'd almost forgotten the snakes_" the Prince thought with a grimace when another female voice reached him from somewhere in his back.

"Are you sure it is wise to sit here for hours on end?" Morgana said and once again he marvelled at her ability to let that concern for his wellbeing sound absolutely genuine. Six months since he had first regained consciousness - in Morgause's arms, for the Gods' sake -, five months since Gwen had given birth to their child and even so he could not say if the snake he had for a sister was still poisonous or not.

"If you do not want me to sit here, why did you leave my door unlocked?" As always, seeing his sister approaching Margaly and her mother made him search for a quick distraction. Doubtlessly Morgana knew that. She chose when to be distracted, though. This time she chose to ignore it and stepped closer to Gwen and the child.

"Physician's orders" she answered playfully. "Gaius said locked doors might be an unwholesome irritation."

Guinivere, albeit somewhat cautiously, smiled at Morgana. To her husband's annoyance she had found some forgiveness for her former mistress, ever since Morgana had used her magic to save both mother and child during a very complicated birth. Naturally the Prince preferred to think that Gaius had done the real work. As a consequence, Arthur and Gwen did not really see eye to eye when it came to defining Morgana's part in Margaly's safe deliverance.

So the young mother tensed a bit when the witch lifted Margaly high in the air, but she did not object. Her husband, on the other hand, was not that gentle. Nor was he as forgiving.

With a few strides Arthur had left his outlook on the garden terrace, reached his sister and grabbed his child, intending to take his daughter as far away from her aunt as was humanly possible.

Unfortunately he had grabbed the toddler a bit too roughly. Or maybe Margaly did not share his likes or dislikes. Whatever the cause, she screamed with anger and Arthur let go of her as if he had been burned.

"Give her back to her mother, Morgana. Now!" His heart was racing in his chest. It wasn't only fear for his child that choked him.

He and Gwen had enjoyed Morgause's impeccable hospitality for half a year now. They had been kept well, as Arthur had to admit, but kept nevertheless. Morgause treated her 'guests' with every courtesy and decorum and to all possible luxury; not even the Crown Prince of Camelot had ever been pampered like that before.

Even the constant watch Morgause's Blood Guard kept him under was very discreet, but it was also inescapable. Every wish was fulfilled instantaneously but if Arthur should as much as begin to talk about leaving Doloreux all he got in response was silence and an indulgent smile.

The Prince loathed his helplessness, his utter dependency on his captors' favour for every meal, every bit of clothing or every sip of water. That this dependency was invisible did nothing to quieten his useless chagrin.

Feeling her brother's anger rising again, Morgana smiled radiantly. "Why should I give Margaly back? She likes being with me and Gwen does not mind. When will you finally learn that the child is perfectly safe with me?"

"On a hot day in January. Now give her back!"

"The change of weather could easily be arranged" Morgana teased but she turned to give the child back nonetheless. The two women exchanged a knowing glance as Guinivere silently took her baby from Morgana's arms.

If the witch had intended to do any harm to her niece, she could have – and doubtlessly would have – done so long ago. But no matter how often Gwen tried to tell her husband exactly that, Arthur still could not stand seeing his sister anywhere near his family. Even Morgause's presence, on the few occasions the sorceress had shown her face, was much easier to endure for him than his sister's frequent, stubborn attempts at being cordial and friendly.

It was the same now. "You wanted to talk to me?" Arthur snapped at Morgana, making it very clear that he for one had no such wish.

His sister nodded nonetheless but her smile wavered and lost a bit of its former radiance. A furtive look came to her eyes while her fingers nervously fondled the delicate necklace on her throat. As always she seemed to get reassurance from tugging at or stroking the magnificent diamond pendant. Gwen had noticed that often before. For all her brazen, sometimes sardonic behaviour towards him, Morgana seemed to crave this reassurance every time she faced her brother.

"Our daughter needs her dinner" Guinivere said and walked away hastily, giving the two siblings the room they obviously needed.

Morgana cautiously ventured into the hazardous business of talking to her brother. It had taken weeks before he had been able to speak at all. Since then, Arthur had restricted his voluntary conversations to Gaius and Gwen. "It's a blessed relief that Gwen has been able to feed the little one herself. Heaven knows from where Morgause and I should have taken a wet nurse."

"It's hard to believe that the Most Revered Lady should have troubled herself with so mean a problem."

Morgana looked at his forbidding face and blew her breath through her nose angrily. "She _did_ trouble herself with saving your damned arrogant hide, Arthur Pendragon. Without my magic you…. Oh to hell with you. It wasn't _our_ doing that brought you to our doorstep a bleeding, messy carcass."

Arthur's best friend had been a sorcerer, the Druids had been good allies, Gaius used magic frequently these days and six months he had spent in close contact to Morgana and her sister – almost unbeknownst to him the Prince had begun to see magic from a new perspective.

Sometimes he envied Morgana her powers, but he could no longer loath her for them.

And yet he'd rather die before he'd ever tell her how he felt. All right, she knew how to provoke him. But he knew her sore spots just as well. "Please Morgana spare me your obsessions. This 'how-much-I-hate-our-father' talk has become very boring."

Arthur yelped in surprise when her hand slapped his face. Momentarily speechless, he glared at her but her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes let his haughtiness – mostly pretence anyhow – falter soon enough.

Her wrath charged the atmosphere around her with angry energy that prickled on Arthur's skin. "It can't have become boring to you, you insolent brat" Morgana growled threateningly. "We've never had a real talk about him. I can't believe you're still idolizing him. How can you do that to yourself! Have you no pride at all?"

"What do you care?" Arthur retorted hoarsely and took up a faster pace. His sister was the very last person he wanted to discuss their father with.

Morgana's shoulders fell. Driving Arthur even further away from her had not been the objective of this conversation. "_Patience_" Morgause had said. "_Patience, sister. It's the only recipe for this. Patience, patience, patience_!"

Morgana inhaled deeply. Patience!

"Arthur, wait, I didn't want….." she said, but it was obvious that she was talking only to herself. Her rage flared up again; she grabbed Arthur's shoulder, pushed him against the nearest tree and held him there. "Damn you, whether you like it or not, you're here and you will at least listen to me, _is that clear_?"

"What is it you want to tell me, huh? That I am your favourite past time, your personal court jester until Gaius has paid my hotel bill by healing your bitch of a sister? Or do you want to tell me what's going to happen afterwards. What mighty big fun you are going to have the moment you don't need me any more to keep an old man in check."

"Damn it, can't you get it into that thick head of yours? It was for you that I saved your big ass! I wanted you to live."

They both were shouting at the top of their lungs by now, uncaring of who might hear them.

"Since when do you care about my survival so much? When you gave me the Eye of the Phoenix, when you tried to get Gwen banished or executed, when you had your sister's men hunt me down like a wild animal? When?" He snorted derisively. "Oh, yes, I've learned a lot about your schemes from Gaius during these months in Devil's Claw. The time I spent there was a real eye-opener."

"Yes" Morgana said, much more quietly while she took her hands from his shoulders. "Especially the last few days you've spent there."

"Leave Uther out of this. What he did to me has nothing to do with what you have to answer for!" Arthur, for his part, had no intention of keeping his voice down. To hell with all the witches, Blood Guards and other magical riff-raff in this world!

"Can't you get it? It has _everything_ to do with him. He cast you away but I _need_ you; I need my brother. Blast it, is that so hard to understand?"

"Like hell you cared about _your_ brother when you and your precious sister tried to kill me and my friends."

"You were _not_ my brother back then; you'd watched me burning alive on the pyre without so much as raising a finger. You were Uther Pendragon's son, the bloody, lying, treacherous bastard's brainless marionette."

It went through him like a knife. It came close to what he despised himself for, hated himself for. Too close.

"You have no right to accuse anyone of treason, Morgana. _You_ are the embodiment of treachery. We loved you, we trusted you and you..you..."

"I tried to protect myself and mine" she screeched back. "What do you think he'd done to me if he had known what I am? Your back and wrists have healed, but look at your chest. Look at what our father is capable of."

Arthur felt the by now familiar burning in his throat. Since Osric's ritual he knew that there _were_ things in this world that exceeded even his limit of endurance and one of these things was his own father. Morgana's betrayal had hurt, it still did, but not as much as the sight of Uther on that balcony.

His sister had had her reasons, misguided reasons perhaps, but comprehensible at least. How he should have deserved what his father had done to him, Uther's son did not comprehend, not now, not ever.

"Arthur, please. At least hear me out. Please?"

He lowered his head and let her continue and this time, he really listened.

Morgana cleared her throat nervously. "I swear if I had thought that you'd overcome the hatred Uther had installed in you, I would have told you about my magic. But I didn't trust you. When I learned that you had had no hidden intentions in helping the Druids, that you had accepted Merlin's abilities, just like that, I…. I don't think I've ever felt more ashamed in my life."

Disbelievingly he saw her hands shake slightly when she brushed her unruly hair out of her face before her fingers came back to fumble around with her necklace. The way she kept tugging at the diamond the delicate chain had to be much more resilient than it looked.

His eyes distracted by the jewellery's fire, Arthur shrugged. "You should have told the King. It might have changed everything. He's always loved you more than me."

Morgana's last remaining anger virtually deflated. That was not what she had expected to hear. She tried to smile, a sad little thing of a wayward grin that somehow seemed to mourn a lifetime of missed opportunities. "What makes you think that? You were his son, his heir, his greatest achievement. I know not what he felt for me, but it wasn't enough to acknowledge the existence of his daughter, not even to me."

Arthur shook his head. This sounded false to him. "Let's say Uther's a lost cause and always has been. Why didn't you stay with Morgause? You're alike, she and you, you're kin in blood and in magic. From all I can see she genuinely loves you. Why come back to Camelot at all?"

She jerked her head back and her jaws tensed visibly; a proud, imperious gesture. A gesture he knew. He had seen it from her father, hundreds of times. In this moment the resemblance was so very striking that he wondered where he had had his eyes all his life.

"I won't say I'm sorry for what I did" she said. "I came back to kill our father and I came back to claim Camelot for what it always should have been: My home. The place where I belong!"

"You _did_ belong there. It was your home, sometimes more than it was mine. It was me who always had to earn everything, I had to work and to fight for every little thing I wanted, every kind word, every pat on the shoulder, everything. You had it all for free. You were Morgana and that was enough!"

His outburst had washed over them both like a cold wave, leaving them awkward and more than a little embarrassed.

"It didn't feel like that" she finally said. "I had my lodgings, I had my fancy clothes and a maid and all the nice little trinkets a silly girl might want but I lacked the mindless stupidity to be content with them. I wanted what I could not have; the right to say that this is _my _home; that I am a part of the Pendragon family, not its living adornment. That was your prerogative though, and when I realized that by right it should have been mine I hated you. With all my heart I wanted to see you dead."

"But then you had a change of heart. How very believable. Tell me, was it before or after you had these wretched peasants murdered in the knights' place? For which unforgivable evil these people had to die?"

"For the unforgivable fact that I am Uther's child."

Arthur snorted once more and pushed himself away from the tree against which he had still been leaning. "Oh come on Morgana, that's bullshit."

"Having these people shot in order to bring the knights to heel, didn't it remind you of someone? Who else would have thought it wise to wrench a public submission from the knights by holding some commoners to ransom?"

He shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding her gaze – and an answer.

"Come on, brother. You're not a coward, you're Arthur Pendragon; you can face everything! Who else would have had such an idea? Who else _has_ had this very idea and boasted about it when we were children? Say it. _Say_ it!"

"I remember Uther's bragging of how he once brought the knights of a defeated rebellious baron to heel as well as you."

"Our father did _not_ remember it. When I saw him in the dungeons afterwards he berated me for killing innocent people."

Arthur shook his head again in fierce denial. "Uther's old mistakes neither set your faults right nor were you forced to repeat them, whatever the man has tricked himself into believing."

"And you wouldn't have repeated them, which effectively answers your question why I no longer wish you to die."

"Morgana, that doesn't make sense!"

"Au contraire, as Cousin Becco would say. It makes perfect sense. Don't you see? I thought _you_ were his mindless puppet while all the time it was _me_ who was his spitting image. After a while I would have become a second Uther Pendragon. I wanted to kill him but I would have given him immortality instead."

Her brother stared disbelievingly into her face, searching for any signs of pretence, or maybe sarcasm, anything that confirmed his belief that she could not be serious, not possibly. Finally he said the first thing that came to his mind. "Why was that important to you? He would not have known and I'd had no chance to care, as I'd been either dead or your prisoner."

"I would have come to care, believe me. There was so much more to my taking the throne of Camelot than venting my anger over a misguided father. Morgause wants to rebuild the Isle of the Blessed. The Old Religion should come back to the realm; life should rule, not death, for the sake of all people. Uther only cared about your kind, the magic blind. I might have done some good, but only for the magicians. I am my father's daughter in my bias for my own kind and it wouldn't have worked out."

"If you knew that, why did you do it?"

"It took me some time to find out. For a long time after your friends had defeated me I thought I'd lost my sister together with anyone else, you, Gaius, Gwen, Camelot - everything. When I thought Morgause would die because of my foolishness, I... I cannot describe how I felt, I..." Her voice broke, she shuddered slightly and Arthur caught himself wishing he could just take her into his arms.

They both kept silent for a while, not knowing what to do.

"I don't understand anything of this" Arthur finally broke the silence. "But let us, only for a moment, say that I believe you. Where does that take us?"

Morgana pulled so very hard at her necklace that he thought either the chain or her neck was to break any moment now.

"I have a suggestion to make. That is, it was Morgause who wanted to present it to you but I think it should come from me. Otherwise you'd think I made all of this up to trick you into something and I meant every word of what I said. No more lies between us, no more pretences. Yes?"

"Morgana, how can I concede to something I haven't heard yet? What suggestion?"

Really, the resilience of this bijouterie was unnatural. Her tender skin was bruised and chaffed and still the chain was holding up.

"Maybe I should add that you're under no obligation to agree to this idea. If you accept it or not, no harm shall come to you or to Gwen and Margaly. I won't press you into anything you do not want. Big promise!"

"Well, not to be blackmailed is a welcome change" Arthur said mechanically. The 'Big promise' had caught him off guard. It had been a kind of private spell between them when they were kids and it had always worked.

"_If you take Gaius' potion, I will no longer be angry that you used my pet rabbit to train your dog, Arthur. Big promise! If you do __**not**__ climb that tree little brother, you can have my dessert tomorrow. Big promise_."

Arthur still remembered that he had valiantly ignored her crestfallen expression while he had stuffed his face with two portions of her favourite dish the next day. She had been wilful, obstinate and dominating as a child, not the ideal sister for a boy a few years her junior who tried to impress his demanding father with shows of strength and superiority. But there had been the 'Big promises', too.

Arthur shook the memory off with a will. "Wouldn't Morgause have a say in that, too? We are your sister's guests of honour for all I know, not yours."

"Leave Morgause to me!" She said it that casually and thoughtlessly, he couldn't help but smile. However, his smile vanished when she continued. "Arthur, I wanted to ask you whether you would consider sharing the throne with me."

For a long while, he just stared at her. Stared and searched for words. Words to throw at her, to show her his contempt, his utter rejection, words to describe the complete insanity of this suggestion. It was unimaginable that he should even think about such an outrageous idea.

At long last, and with great effort, he managed to express some of his thoughts. "_**I do beg your pardon?**_"

Morgana hardly believed her ears. She'd thought he'd faint from the look on his face a moment ago. "There are two chairs on the throne room's platform, there are two kinds of people in the realm and there are two sorts of power necessary to rule Camelot" she rambled on as fast as she could. "My fault, my and Morgause's fault, was to believe that, while Uther never was more than the King of the first half, it would suffice if I would be the Queen of the other. But Camelot needs both, magic and sword. I know I could do a world of good with you by my side, but alone I would destroy the realm as well as myself and everything else."

"What on earth are you talking about Morgana?"

By now her face was flushed with agitation, almost feverish. "Give me an enemy to defeat, an army to destroy or a mountain to overcome and I know I will do it, but ask me to keep the realm in balance or to heal the wounds Uther has done to my kind and I will fail. I _need_ you, Arthur. Camelot needs both of us. And as her Queen no one could doubt that I belong there."

His wrath about her doings, his distrust of her and her sister, his desperate resolve to keep his home safe from her clutches – suddenly it all seemed to fade away. It paled in comparison to his memories of her during a childhood in which she and Gaius had been his only confidants. Somewhere in his head a voice began to sing that what she was saying made sense, in a mad and twisted way, but sense nonetheless.

"Morgana, I'm not Gaius, I don't know magic, you must explain these things to me."

"For a normal magician it's easy to say that his magic is neutral, that he decides what it should do, but not for me. When my powers run free a river can change its bed but I wouldn't advise you to trust me with a farmer's well or a gentle stream."

"But you're asking me, a magic-blind, to guide you and to trust you with the future of Camelot?"

"Think of the possibilities" she said. "No army, no magical adversary or any other foe will ever be able to threaten us again, as long as we are King and Queen of Camelot. The people love you, Arthur. They'll never give you up, with or without this horrible thing on your chest. And you cannot honestly want Becco to sit on our throne. You have a child now. A future Queen of Camelot."

"Aren't you forgetting some little details?" Arthur couldn't believe that he was seriously discussing this lunatic idea with a witch that barely two years ago had tried to kill him and to destroy anything he held dear. But, here he was, doing exactly that. Obviously Uther's inbred instinct for finding a throne to rest his arse in had been passed on to both his children. "The King is still alive, dear sister."

"_Without you, Merlin and Gaius he might not be much longer_" Morgana wanted to say but she thought of her sister's reasoning and gulped it down. To let her father come out of this unharmed was the arrow she had to bite.

"He's screwed up, Arthur. For good. Camelot Castle has been under siege for the last six weeks and they cannot hold out much longer. He's alone with his loving sister, her sappy son and a few tottering second class nobles who never had a noteworthy army in the first place. Ravenclaw's liegemen are following their Baron's banner, Bodmin, Saltyre, Blackmore, the harbour cities – you name them, they've turned against him. People think you're dead, murdered by your own father. All of Camelot is in open rebellion. How long before our neighbours will take advantage? You're the trained strategist, you tell me!"

Arthur's stomach turned and he felt faintly sick from sudden disappointment. "What have you done?" he murmured. "For all your sanctimonious talk, you've done it again."

"I've done nothing and neither has Morgause. The calamity is of our father's doing and his alone. It's true he loves you more than his life but he loves his pride more than you. You have done too good a job during your regency, Arthur. He can no longer compete with you and that he will never forgive."

As her brother kept silent she furtively laid a hand on his arm. "You know I'm not lying, don't you? You've seen it coming ever since the day of the jousting match. You couldn't bring yourself to take the Crown from him but the time for such niceties is over."

His confused look, its resemblance to that of a lost puppy, brought a ghost of her old, arrogant grin to her face. "Oh, I'm knowledgeable nowadays. My sister is the High Priestess, remember? And I have some magic of my own." She shrugged superciliously. "Besides, we have some reliable informers inside Camelot. Magic or no, it's still a good method."

He winced and immediately Morgana's face became serious again. "Should the citadel fall to the rebels the King _will_ be executed. If, after all he's done to you and to your loved ones, you still want Uther to survive he has to leave Camelot, and soon. Only you can achieve that, but you'll need my and Morgause's help. Not one of the nobles will be willing to aid you before he can be sure you're the winning side. Together we can do this, Arthur." Her grip on her brother's arm became stronger. "Together Morgause and I can guarantee Uther's safe passage to Gaul if that is what you want."

She waited a moment for a reply that did not come. "Little brother, it's either giving me a second chance or watching Camelot drown in blood."

"How should I know that you're telling the truth?" he gave his dwindling resistance one last try. "The King could be feasting with the nobility of a happy and content realm this very moment for all I know."

"Would you trust Gaius to show you the true picture in one of our magic crystals? I can ask him this instant if you want me to."

Again, Arthur didn't say anything.

"C'me on little brother. Just one peep into a magic crystal won't kill you. I won't be there to meddle with Gaius' magic. Big promise."

He rolled his eyes heavenwards but he did not pull free from her hand.

"Arthur? Do you want me to ask Gaius to show you the truth about what is happening in Camelot?"

Slowly, painfully he nodded.

He felt horrible because he felt so much better for what she had said.


	21. A cordial alliance

**21. A cordial alliance**

Arthur cursed his own cowardice when he followed Morgana to Gaius' present quarters. After all, to stall for time just to postpone the inevitable burst of his last illusions for a few moments longer was not a very brave thing to do.

The Prince had no need to hear the healer's conformation as what Morgana had described was nothing more than the logical consequence of what the King had set into motion.

For sure, there wasn't much in this world the nobles would have risked a civil war for; even their Prince they had been only too willing to sacrifice in order to avoid it. But forcing them to feed a foreign army of this size at their expense while not only their but the whole realm's fortunes went to ruin in the process was a risky business at the best of times. If this foreign army achieved nothing but aiding Uther in tormenting his own people; if the King sacrificed their interests for the sake of some foreigners and finally left the realm without an acceptable heir – well, the nobles' risk assessment was a notoriously fickle thing. It had proved to be most adjustable in the past.

Morgana had some trouble to overcome Gaius' reluctance, as the old healer had no wish to confront his Prince with a hideous truth, but in the end she left them both with a satisfied smile gracing her lips. For once her brother regretted seeing her walk away. The hatred she felt for her father and the fierceness of her wish to reclaim Camelot from anyone who kept it from her were pure; untainted by second thoughts, regrets or any other left-overs from filial affection. Her brother's feelings, on the other hand, were a lamentable mess.

"The crystal has not been tampered with, of that I am certain" Gaius said after a few minutes of awkward silence. "It'll show you the truth. If this is a truth you want to know."

"I want to know something else, first."

"Morgause _has_ put out a few feelers to see whether I'd encourage or advise you against an alliance with her – if that was your question, Sire. And she was not very subtle. Last night she just asked me, out of the blue." Gaius snapped his fingers while he looked hesitantly at his Prince. "I should have told you, I know, but I admit I needed some time to think about it myself."

Angrily Arthur hit his fist against the wall. "I should have known it was Morgause's idea. Morgana and her lies about wanting 'her brother back' be damned."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you!"

"Gaius, you of all people should know what we're up against with these two. Lance has told me all about your and Merlin's fight against Morgause in order to destroy the Cup of Life. Morgana has betrayed us once; surely she'll do it again."

"As I said, I am no longer sure about that."

Arthur huffed contemptuously. "Do you at least know with what they've poisoned your mind?"

"With some truths I had refused to see before."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that you and your father are two different persons."

Arthur's blank face spoke volumes of what this enigmatic statement told him: Nothing at all.

Gaius sighed. "Please sit down, Sire. You wandering around makes my head spin and I think I'm going to need my wits about me soon. Thank you."

The latter referred to the Prince slumping into the nearest chair.

"You see Arthur, I've made a grave mistake" Gaius continued wearily. "And what's more I deluded Merlin into making the same mistake, against his much better judgement. I've explained to him that you were not your father; that you would bring about an era of justice and peace for Camelot. But then I taught him that he'd never trust you with his secret, that protecting you meant protecting your father at all costs. In other words I forced him to treat – even to see – you and your father as one inseparable and indistinguishable unit."

Arthur shrugged helplessly, his face a question mark with two big eyes.

"Morgana and her sister did just the same" Gaius tried to make his point, but it was to no avail.

"So what? Daddy has been mean to us both and that makes us friends again? Morgana _hated_ me Gaius, she wanted Cendred to torture me. She even hated Gwen because I loved her, hated her enough to have her burned alive."

"Your sister never hated _you_, how could she? _You_ weren't even _there_, Arthur. Uther, the knights, even me – none of us ever saw you as a person in your own right. I think your wife was the only one who never saw the King's son, or the Crown Prince or the knights' commander but _you_, your own self."

Arthur decided to leave this subject. He was used to being taken for granted, used to not having a life of his own no matter how he felt about it. "So you'd say that Morgana is sincere?"

"I say you hardly have another choice but to give it a try and find out."

Now the Prince felt more secure. The phrase 'no choice' normally heralded a round of tough negotiations and that was familiar ground to him indeed. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I asked Morgause what she'd do if you refused her and she said she'd do nothing at all. She'd keep you and your family here until somebody else had claimed the throne of Camelot, doubtlessly tearing the realm apart beyond recovery in the process. Then she would set you free. She had no doubt whatsoever that you would get yourself killed within four weeks in some hare-brained, futile attempt to free Camelot."

"And you believed her." The Prince sounded a bit offended.

"Knowing you and the human race, I still do." Gaius raised his hand but let it fall down again before it touched the young man's cheek. "Face it, Sire. The moment it became known that you're alive you'd become a pawn to the first human hyena that comes your way. And Merlin is no more."

"What about you, great sorcerer? Would you abandon me in my hour of need?" Arthur's voice was teasing, if a bit warmer than usual, and Gaius swallowed before he could answer.

"I'm an old man and nowhere in my bag is a cure for cruelty or greed. But for all they're worth, my creaking bones and wobbling hide are yours to waste, My Lord."

Now it was Arthur's turn to flush with embarrassment. He quickly looked at his toes and as he found he could no longer sit still, he jumped back to his feet. "We've had that conversation before, Gaius. When Morgana had brought down the King with madness, remember? You said I should take over as regent and I said I would never usurp my fa….my King."

"You can't even say it, can you? You can't say 'father' anymore."

Arthur shook his head violently.

"Then, Your Highness, I'd say that your father has finally usurped _you__._ It technically ends your allegiance to him, wouldn't you agree? This allegiance was your sister's enemy, not you."

Just as he had done back then Arthur walked to the nearest window, turning his back to the older man. He thought of te several occassions on which he had thought that Morgana had been a better judge of character when it came to Uther Pendragon. "After Morgause had spoken to you, did you check up on Camelot in this….this crystal or whatever it is?"

"I did."

"Is it true? That Uther has brought it to the brink of disaster?"

"Yes."

"Then show me. Please."

Four hours later the Prince had seen his home country lying in shambles. He had bitten his lip until it bled at the sight of the battlements, the cities, villages and roads. Many of them had, under significant sacrifices in other places, only just been rebuilt from the wreckage Cendred's and Morgause's wars had caused. Now Uther's mismanaged schemes had devastated them again. Many fields had not been tilled, both harbours were almost empty and many houses had been abandoned. Camelot was in for another spell of hunger, cold and anarchy but there had been time and strength enough in the royal army to destroy the last remaining sacred places of the Old Religion. The senseless pillaging and destroying would feed and clothe no one but from the sight of the corpses that still littered the ground, it had been costly.

The citadel was under siege, all right. Ravenclaw was there together with all the other great names of the realm. Only the Branguard banners, other than Morgana had said, were absent. Obviously the siege was a success for the attackers. From the look of it, the lower town, laid to waste twice already in the last three years, had been taken again a while ago. People there had mostly been left to fend for – and somehow feed – themselves.

Inside the citadel only a few servants shuffled through the yard, looking exhausted and listless.

Gaius muttered something about the first class quality of Morgause's equipment and that every King would consider himself lucky to have such an opportunity to spy on his neighbours before he realized that he was babbling. All of a sudden the crystal mirror he had used fell dark and silent.

Arthur had stopped looking anyhow. "Thank you" he muttered before he fled Gaius' company as fast as he could.

For the better part of the night he tossed around, unable to come to any decision. The thought to stay put and do nothing until Morgause most graciously decided to let him go made him grit his teeth. But when he tried to think about going to her and hammer out an agreement to overthrow Uther, cold sweat ran down his spine.

Finally Guinivere found it impossible to pretend that she was sound asleep. Morgana had told her everything and she knew exactly what Arthur was thinking about. "It's just your pride that's tormenting you" she suddenly said in the middle of the night. "The very idea that you should have to go to Morgana, to admit that you need her help is almost killing you. I should know. I felt the same when Margaly was born."

"There's much more to this" he fiercely objected. "Camelot's future…

"..is in shambles if you stay here."

"Your and Margaly's safety…."

"….is gone as soon as we have to leave Doloreux alone."

"Uther still is the lawful King…."

"I wish him to hell and so do you. Damn it, Arthur, can't you admit it just once?"

He jumped out of the bed and faced her. "Say what you want me to do. Say it."

She sat up and glared back at him. "All my life I've told myself that I'd not fall as low as to pay like with like. But now I've a husband, and a child, and I've got my brother back. I've seen what Uther can do to anyone I love. He's proved it when he murdered my father and he's written it in plain letters on your body, for everyone to read. He's a monster and I want him gone. _Gone_, Arthur, never to return! For my daughter's sake. For your sake."

Angrily she blinked away the tears which threatened to spoil the impression she hoped to make. "When I first saw what he had done to you I…..I wanted….Blast it, every single one of these so called noblemen would do just the same. If keeping you prisoner or torturing you would be to their advantage, I'd lose you. In this snake-pit of a world we need allies and right now they're not exactly queuing up to join our ranks."

"And what Morgana did to us? What about that?"

"She did what she did because you are Uther's son but other than the rest of the power-greedy bunch this reason no longer matters to her. To your sister, and only to her, you're more valuable as a friend than as a hostage."

"And why would that be?"

"From where _we_ stand we have to fear everybody. For Morgana, yours is the only opposition she must fear. Your support, however, legitimizes her claim to the throne."

Her reasoning left him dumbfounded. And, idiotically, a bit in awe. "So I have a tactician for a wife now" he said a bit lamely.

"I had a Crown Prince for a teacher!"

They shouted at each other until their arguments had run full circle and started at the beginning.

When dawn came, Gwen nibbled at her husband's neck comfortingly. "There's nothing for it, my love. You can no longer be true to him _and_ to yourself. You have to make up your mind. Who is it you want to belong to?"

"To the Pendragon snake or the Pendragon jackal?" he muttered exasperatedly.

"The Christians have a saying" Gwen whispered. "I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Surely it serves another purpose. But Morgana's suggestion would at least make you a sheep that can choose its pack of wolves."

"And that's something?"

"It's more than nothing. I trust you, Arthur. More than any other man. But not even you will achieve anything if you are locked up in a golden cage."

Three hours later he asked Morgause for a few minutes of her time. It took them the whole day but then they were in an agreement.

Her Most Revered Ladyship was still a bit knackered by her unexpected success when Gaius came for the evening treatment. "I don't believe it, he really agreed. Do you think he means it? I mean, that Morgana should find a way back into his affection I can believe. After all they've grown up together. But that Arthur Pendragon should accept my terms on having the Isle of the Blessed rebuild inside Camelot territory – heavens above!"

Gaius slanted his head at the emotional outburst from the otherwise cool and overly controlled young woman. "Arthur doesn't give a damn about the Old Religion anymore; he has come to think of its evils as machinations of his father's mind. But that he should forgive his sister for what she did – that's what _I_ find hard to believe."

"So you'd say it's not sure yet? That he still might change his mind?"

"Arthur is not one to go back on a promise. Didn't you once ask him to lay his head on the bloc and he did it because he had given his word?"

When the physician stepped back, Morgause turned her head and looked at him inquisitively. They had a more than uneasy truce, she and the man who – together with his ward – had broken her spine. "What do you think about this scheme, old man? Will it be our salvation or our downfall?"

"I couldn't care less for your success or failure, Most Revered Lady. But I do see a chance in this for Arthur to regain what is lawfully his. If Morgana really supports him, if this 'scheme' of yours brings the old times of learning and enlightenment back to Camelot, you can count on my loyalty until the day I'll die. If you are going to betray him again, I will be your enemy."

"Should that make me tremble?"

Morgause screamed when Gaius pressed on her spine with both his hands and his magic. The onslaught left her breathless and her head spinning.

"Maybe it should, My Lady. I am a somewhat underrated force at times."

Without any decorum he grabbed her arm. "Try to get up now." Roughly he pulled her upwards and she swallowed another yelp of pain. Fear pressed on her throat when she stood upright, supported by his indifferent hands. This was the moment of truth. He had said it was his last resort. If this couldn't cure her spine, nothing could.

Morgause gritted her teeth and willed her feet to move. When they really did, the joy made her almost hilarious. The pain was unimportant, as was the fact that she moved like a senile goose on land. She could walk. She would ride, fight, run again, she'd do everything again. She was free. Free at last.

She laughed, turned her head towards the healer, tripped over the carpet and crashed face down to the floor like a stone.

When a shocked Gaius lifted her back on her chair, her head was bleeding and her lip was split but she was still laughing all the same. "This is it" she said. "I will be well again, won't I?"

"Your spine is intact. Your muscles are weak and your limbs are stiff but in time you'll make a full recovery, heaven forgive me."

Gaius frowned when he felt her hand on his arm. "You've saved me twice, old man. Once today and once when I was born. I might even be inclined to forgive you your attempt at my life in Camelot." She gave up some of her derisive attitude. "This time you will not regret what you did, Gaius. I promise."

"This is the day of unwholesome promises then."

"I've news for you, old man. I've searched again and this time, I've found. I'd never thought I'd be glad to find this especially detestable presence but I think I owe it to you."

Gaius froze. "You're kidding me" he said weakly.

"No, I'm not. My Gods, it'll please Algernon to hear that the fool is still part of this world. Albeit the great – perhaps somewhat overrated – saviour of the Druids might not exactly be walking on it right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever heard of someone capturing a sorcerer in order to ban his essence, his soul or whatever you want to call it, into a jewel? A healing jewel or a good luck charm?"

"That's superstitious talk Morgause, unworthy of a Lady of the Isle."

"You're getting very grand, adept. The Druids cherish this legend. And I know that it works. The bracelet I gave to my sister to cure her nightmares stems from such a source. The life force in it is weak, it is thousands of years old, but that doesn't prove me wrong."

"Are you telling me that Merlin was caught in order to cure somebody from a magical illness?"

"The illness is not necessarily a magical one but I suppose one could phrase it like that, yes."

"Who? And where? You…"

"Patience, old man. I have a pretty good idea of where to continue my search but I'm not completely sure yet. Besides, the 'patient's' folks might think it better to keep the treatment going a bit longer."

Gaius paled. He bowed curtly and made ready to leave her, his face a mask of barely hidden anger and humiliation while he cursed himself for having fallen for her cat-and-mouse-game.

"You're misunderstanding me again, Gaius. All right then. Tomorrow you will know if I assumed correctly. Do we have a bargain?"

He left without answering her but she couldn't help smiling when she saw him bustle out, virtually bristled with anger and unwilling hope alike.

Morgause leaned back on her chair, more content than she had been in a very long time. All was going according to plan; her regained mobility was an additional asset. Great Mother! If she had known how much could be gained by _not_ interfering with Uther's doings, she would have given this policy a try much earlier.

However, the Priestess had not much time to indulge her catlike satisfaction. Morgana's step was unmistakable and she was chattering away happily almost the second she entered the room. Morgause hardly found a second to tell her sister of her restored health. Morgana congratulated her enthusiastically and hugged her fiercely and yet she was too focused on her own success and prospect to care for long. She'd never doubted Gaius' ability anyways, not as a healer that was.

Thrice the younger sister had mentioned that she thought her beginning reconciliation with her brother to be most sincere and genuine before Morgause interrupted the merry rambling.

"Morgana, would you do me a favour?"

"What?"

"I've told you what Armand said about the necklace you're wearing."

Instinctively her sister covered the pendant protectively with both hands. "Yes. What of it?"

"I've told you sister, that you cannot keep the jewel for very long. If you wear it after its task has been fulfilled you'll never know whether your feelings and thoughts are yours or the necklace's."

"But I feel comfortable with it. I need it. I know I do."

"No, you do not. At least I hope you don't. You've not lied to Arthur, have you? You really want his friendship? Morgana, we both knew that this time only honesty can make our plan work. Deception would destroy it. Do you want to keep the necklace because you need it to better deceive me and your brother?"

Offended, Morgana darted to her feet. "I've never deceived you, sister. You have no right to insult me such."

"Then give me the necklace, now!"

Morgana hesitated a second longer. Contradicting feelings battled on her face, but finally her typical Pendragon pride got the better of her. Angrily she opened the chain and threw the necklace into Morgause's lap. "There you are."

Her neck and throat felt horribly bare and exposed suddenly. It was cold without the comforting warmth of the necklace. Morgana felt angry tears well up in her eyes at the sight of her prized possession in Morgause's hand. "I bid you a good night, sister" she snapped and swept out of the room, all her joy thoroughly crushed. Frantically she thought of who might wish to share her anger for a while. Then it came to her. Thank heaven she had another sibling. She and her brother had much to discuss now, anyway.

Morgause ended her short meditation when she was sure where Morgana was heading. Briefly the High Priestess allowed herself to feel some sympathy for her former enemy. She loved Morgana more than anything in this world but sometimes her sister could be a handful. But then, Arthur surely knew that and he could always hand her over to his long-suffering wife.

Somehow it was very comforting, to have not only Morgana by her side but a whole family, or something that came very close to a family. The warmth of the thought swept over the High Priestess like a ray of sunlight. It felt good. Very good. Maybe she had misjudged Arthur. Maybe their alliance would really be a huge success in the end. Yes, surely that would be the case. And as for that serving girl he'd married, the woman was a dear. Really, it was hard to believe that Morgause should ever have thought of that girl as an enemy. The very thought was ridiculous. How could anyone hate such perfect people?

The sorceress looked down and found her fingers gently stroking the necklace. Quickly she recoiled from the jewel. At once her usual cool remoteness and objectivity came back to her thoughts and feelings.

"_That a strength like this should have been born in a __peasant__'s hut_" she thought, somewhat impressed against her will. This wasn't her kind of magic; it had nothing to do with swords or war, with power, defeat or victory. And yet it was strong; strong like Druid magic; strong like a force of nature, not of the human mind.

Strong enough to let Morgause look out for the protection of her usual sarcasm. "We can't allow that to go on or else we'll end up sitting in the meadow, singing gentle songs of love into each other's ears until the world comes down."

And yet temptation was almost irresistible. Tentatively she stroke the diamond again and in an instant her mind was filled with loving care, warmth and an urge to seek out her loved ones to make sure they were safe. As soon as she broke contact with the jewel, the feelings faded away.

Morgause frowned. Armand had been sure that the jewel's effect on Morgana would be permanent, though. Maybe it had something to do with the necklace being meant to restore her sister's original personality, not to install a new one in Morgause. Or with the length of time one carried it.

Just as well that Morgana should not wear the necklace any longer. From the very beginning Morgause had had a hard time when Morgana's single minded resolve to do her sister's bidding was softened and qualified by a more balanced approach. The jewel had revived an attitude in King Uther's former ward that had more to do with the young woman who had risked her life to hide a Druid boy than with the single-minded Princess who had been willing to climb a throne over a legion of dead bodies.

It had taken some time before Morgause had been forced to admit that the return to some of her former convictions had done Morgana a world of good.

This realization had brought some disturbing thoughts, though. It was almost as if Morgana had only _played_ the evil Princess because she'd thought that she owed it to her awesome sister. As always, Morgause refused to dwell on this idea for long.

Her thoughts returned to the necklace itself. Armand had said that Morgana would not be able to open or break its chain as long as she needed the jewel's power, so for Arthur's and their plans' sake, Morgause hoped that he had been right. And that, as of tomorrow night, the necklace's far too positive powers would never be too close to her sister again.

The Priestess reached for the jewel once more, thought better of it and wrapped it in a silk scarf before she touched it. "Better safe than sorry" she mumbled. But even through the layers of silk the feelings radiated from the thing to her when her fingers came near it.

"_Thank heaven that at least a__s a human __this boy __can __get angry and spiteful on occasions_." She remembered his attack in Camelot that had almost killed her and shuddered. "_It's a pity we can not leave you how you are, my friend. But as a__n indestructible __magic icon__ of love and virtue you're even more unendurable than as a man_."

Morgause rang for a servant to bring her own jewel case to her.

When the necklace was safely put away, the High Priestess shook her head, still in awe. "I'd never thought I'd say that, but I think it's high time for you to reappear, dear Emrys!"


	22. First steps on a very long way

**22. First steps on a very long way**

He swam in a warm ocean, drifting carelessly, with no hope, no pains, no wishes or demands to disturb his perfect contentment. How long he had been in that blissful situation or how he had come here – wherever 'here' was – he had no idea. Neither did he know who or what he was. "_Animal, plant or mineral_" he thought and the memory was a pleasant one; it made him chuckle before it went away again without being missed.

He had no care in this world; his only task – if one could call the very essence of his existence a 'task' at all – was to waste all the contentment, love and warmth that actually _w__ere_ him on his surroundings. He radiated his own bliss and happy memories like a cosy campfire would radiate its heat to all who sat around it in merry companionship.

Sometimes, though, a cold breeze would sweep over him, a reminder of an outside world that was less perfect than his own. At such times he felt his surroundings reject the gift he offered and it disturbed him. It tainted his happiness and he strove even harder to conquer all the cold and darkness of "outside" with his own gentle warmth.

In the beginning "outside" resisted, even violently. It tried to cling to his bad memories, to its nightmares and to its very own concepts of defeating them; without warmth and gentleness but with measures of fierceness and dark glory.

At first he got a bit angry at "outside". It was not expected to offer resistance. He tried harder, but so did "outside". And, astonishingly, "outside" won.

In the end they found a compromise. "Outside" accepted his gift but it kept a part of its inner being to itself. The heat it took from him it passed on but not to everyone. Some memories and dreams and plans "outside" kept prisoner in the darker part of its soul which were not accessible to him.

When he felt that he had done what he could do, when "outside" became a more remote part of his existence, its own will now its master again, he became bored. With boredom, his own memories demanded their right and they came back to him, reminding him of a life he had once had and had no more.

It made him restless. One last time "outside" demanded his protection and support to fulfil a long cherished but fiercely suppressed wish. But after that wish had come true, he knew he could no longer stay where and how he was.

His warm ocean was no longer a place of bliss but a prison and he felt lost without a purpose. Anxiety and loneliness ousted his former happiness; helplessly he strained against the confinement his world had become. However, the boundaries of his existence did not yield. Panic filled his soul and he tried and tried and tried harder until he began to fall, deeper and deeper into an abyss. He screamed, screamed for all he was worth….

"And that's to be the sorcerer born of legends" an angry female voice said sharply.

He gasped for air, coughed until tears ran from his eyes and grabbed blindly, thoughtlessly for some hold in his hell-ride towards the ground of the abyss.

"Shut up, you useless imbecile!" the same voice commanded "before I'll have you gagged. Look at me. I said, _**look at me**_!"

In utter panic, he opened his eyes for what felt like the first time in his life and he stared into a beautiful but not very comforting face. Blond hair, delicate skin, large brown eyes and a treacherously soft voice – "_Morgause_" he thought. "_Her name is Morgause_."

And with that knowledge his old life reclaimed him with a vengeance. The next moment saw Merlin on his feet while his magic lashed out at her instinctively with all his power.

The High Priestess yelped in surprise and pain when she went down. She could not breathe, not move and her body was burning from head to toe. Wave after wave of this blind onslaught crushed into her body, pressed on her throat and even entered her mind with one thought and one thought only – kill the witch. Kill her now!

As four bulky men of the High Priestess' Blood Guard virtually jumped on him, Merlin's concentration wavered. They pinned him down to the floor and tried their best to shield their mistress from his attack. It didn't do her much good, as his power just went through them as if they weren't there. But the distraction forced him to think consciously about what he was doing.

Suddenly he became aware that someone was shouting his name, someone who was neither Morgause nor one of her guards, as the voice was very familiar. Confused Merlin narrowed his eyes and tried to look around, but all he saw were parts of Blood Guard bodies and these he wasn't interested in, not in the least.

Steps ran towards him, somebody pushed the guards back and two warm hands took his face. "Merlin, stop it. Now!"

Morgause fell back, her convulsing body came to rest and she inhaled deeply as the pain and the paralysis left her. Through a haze before her eyes she saw, disbelievingly, the stream of red hot energy pull away from her, through the young man's body that hid Merlin from her sight and into the warlock who had sent it out in the first place.

"It's all right, no need to do such stupid things. Calm down, Merlin. Everything is fine."

"But she's Morgause" Merlin said, as if this explained everything. Just in case the prat did not see his point, he added helpfully "she's the enemy!"

"Believe it or not, we're all friends here" Arthur said sarcastically but then he smiled radiantly. "Welcome back, idiot" he said. "Missed me?"

"Like a pain in the ass, dollop-head" Merlin answered and, as he thought the situation called for it, he hugged his best friend until a mortified Arthur pulled back and rose, helping Merlin to his feet in the process.

Morgause was staggering. Two of her men supported her and only glared at the two young men but the other two came for the warlock, their faces not boding well of what they had in mind for him.

Arthur shoved Merlin behind him, like had done many times before. "Get lost!"

"Do as he says." Morgause gave the order just before the two Blood Guards could grab their opponent. "Leave them alone."

"But My Lady.."

"The danger has passed. Leave us now. All of you."

The men's looks showed clearly what they thought. Arthur and her mistress – they had become used to that. After all, their luxury prisoner was, alliance or no, still unarmed. And a magic blind. But as for this deceivingly innocent looking fury of a Druid, or whatever he was – the guards had no wish to leave her mistress to his mercy.

Twice the sorceress had to repeat her order before they finally left. "We're right in front of the door, My Lady."

"Arthur, please" Morgause said as soon as they were alone. Merlin watched, not knowing what to think of it, when the Prince quickly helped his mortal enemy to sit down in a chair.

"What the hell…." the warlock muttered, staring at his friend with wide eyes.

Anxious to get him out of harm's way, Arthur wanted to tell him to shut up but Morgause interrupted him. "I dare say I've finally found out your secret, Emrys."

"You've known what I am since I defeated you in Camelot" Merlin retorted heatedly, valiantly ignoring the Prince's silent mouthing to _**shut up at once!**_ "And Arthur knows all about me being a sorcerer. So you'd better save your breath."

"That applies to both of you" Pendragon said resolutely, grabbing his warlock friend by the shoulder and shoving him towards the door. "You have some explaining to do to a few people, my friend. Something about getting lost and needing a High Priestess's magic to reappear."

"But…." Merlin was taken off guard and shockingly clueless as to how he had come here, where they were, why Arthur had obviously taken leave of his senses and what was going on. But he knew for a fact that he would not leave the Prince alone with this bitch, not for a second.

The warlock dug in his heels and tried to resist. As usual Arthur ignored the feeble resistance of the relatively delicate muscles and just pushed harder. He opened the door with his free hand and gave Merlin a last hard push before he slammed the door shut again.

Outside Merlin landed in a pair of arms that embraced him and held him beyond the merest thought of escape while "Merlin. You're back" was repeatedly shouted into his ears at a deafening volume when Gwaine hugged him almost to death.

Inside, Pendragon turned away from the door to face the woman of whom he still did not know for sure whether she was friend or foe.

"Thank you" he said, with honest conviction. "Gaius has earned it and yet – I know you weren't exactly forced to do this. It was….kind of you."

"What about you? I was under the impression you two are friends." She did not say that this impression had been one of the reasons to give Arthur one last chance. If he could forgive this run-of-the-mill sorcerer for lying to him day after day for years, he might yet forgive his own sister the things Morgana had done because she had been terrified out of her wits as well as angry and deeply hurt.

The Prince's face was calm, even indifferent. "Merlin and I've been through a lot together, if that's what you mean."

"What I _mean_ is that seeing you bask in one of the most powerful, most lethal magical assaults I've ever seen and come out of it without a scratch is astonishing, to say the least. It certainly explains why your so called servant has laid down his life for you, time and again."

"Well then, I thank you on my own behalf, too. Would that be all, My Lady?"

"No, not yet."

She rose, almost with her old grace, and laid her hand on his arm. She felt his immediate resistance, but also his self-control that kept him from shaking her hand off. "The boy has poisoned my sister – your sister! - he has tried to kill me and he very nearly maimed me for life. You might as well appreciate that I freed him nonetheless. It was a token of my good will."

"I've already thanked you. What more do you want?"

Silently Morgause admitted to herself that Arthur's remote, distanced arrogance drove her mad. While he had been at her mercy he had fought her every step of the way with it, silently pitting himself against her attempts to undermine his resolve. There had been moments in this battle of two iron wills in which she would have given much for Morgana's ability to defeat her brother's passive resistance by alternately ignoring or matching it with her own superciliousness.

"I want this alliance to work, Arthur. For Morgana's sake. And as the High Priestess of the Old Religion."

"Rest assured, today he only acted on instinct. Merlin will neither poison Morgana nor will he attack you again, as long as you both keep your side of the bargain. That's all it takes, isn't it?"

"In my opinion it takes more than that. It takes friendship and trust between us."

"In my opinion, Most Revered Lady, as an ally I owe you my loyalty as far as our agreement demands it. My likes and dislikes are my own."

She hated his impeccable manners, she hated his unyielding attitude and she desperately longed for the times in which the mismatched fight of her magic against his mere sword and fragile human courage had hid the fact that he was her equal, in many aspects. With a considerable effort, Morgause pushed her wrath to the back of her mind. "Then let's just say the gift of your precious peasant warlock's life was a beginning."

"You must think as you see fit, My Lady. As must I."

Arthur bowed curtly and left, without asking her leave, as she noticed irritably. From the start he had taken her permission to move freely inside Doloreux castle as something that was self-evident.

"To hell with you, you arrogant brat" she said to the empty room. "How on earth does Morgana cope with you?"

She'd thought less harshly of her reluctant ally had she seen him the second he turned round the corner and got finally out of her guards' sight. Mercifully neither hide nor hair of Merlin or any of his friends were visible.

Incredibly grateful for a precious moment of solitude, Arthur slumped against the wall and closed his eyes. He was shaking. Profound relief and joy about Merlin's miraculous survival, what Morgause had told him in advance about Ravenclaw being not only a sorcerer but also the man who had taken Merlin in the first place, the fact that King Uther had, against all odds, spared a warlock but not his son, the question of how Merlin's return might yet change the odds in this alliance and the even greater debt of gratitude he now owed the two sorceresses – it was all intertwined and bottled up inside him.

"_What a mess I've brought myself in_" he thought. "_And I'm digging the hole for myself even deeper by the day._"

Faintly, from a place very far away, temptation approached him. Daring him to make it all undone. Heavens, how Merlin had pushed the so called High Priestess almost into oblivion, just like that. With this power by his side, Doloreux could no longer hold him prisoner. Who needed unreliable allies if he had the most powerful warlock for a friend? Surely he could return to Camelot now, without the witches' support. Why not make it up with his father and….

Arthur's thoughts stopped their mad gallop at this point, sobered.

One thing about Osric's ritual he fiercely believed to be true: It could not be undone. What had been between him and his father, love or hatred, respect or fear, it had been destroyed the second the King had entered that balcony in Devil's Claw. Arthur had pined for Uther's appreciation all his life but now this craving was gone. What he wanted wasn't his father, not even the throne or Camelot itself – he wanted his old life back and that was not in the market.

There was some truth to what Gwaine had once said. "_A thoroughbred you may be, Arthur Pendragon, but you need a stable and a fixed destination__; __you're a __horse that's used to __work__ in a harness. I may be a __nag__ compared to you, but at least I'm a free __nag__._" It hadn't exactly been a moment of friendship between them and Merlin had been devastated. Doubtlessly he had given the knight an earful as soon as he could catch him alone.

However, it had been that need to find a fitting harness that had really tipped Arthur's scales towards the alliance Morgana and her sister had suggested. A new life needed a new purpose and rebuilding Camelot into a home for all people of good will was the only purpose he could think of. If there was a chance, however small and remote, that this alliance might bring that about, it was too good to miss.

Wearily Arthur pushed himself away from the wall. Out of habit he straightened his back and shoulders before he walked purposefully towards Gaius' quarters where he suspected the whole bunch would be right now. Every inch a Prince. Competent, self-assured and a bit puffed up.

Merlin wasn't Gwaine, but even so he had his own way to _not_ hide his feelings and opinions. And yet nobody would see how much Arthur dreaded the necessity to explain the turn of events – and most of all, the story behind this turn – to his warlock friend.

Maybe, just maybe, he was lucky for once and Gaius had already done it for him. Besides, there were Guinivere who had to explain who Margaly was, Algernon, newly arrived at Morgause's request, who had to explain what the Druids expected from their Emrys – honestly, Arthur himself would have liked to know that – Gwaine, who had come with Algernon and who had to explain what had happened to the other Knights of the Round Table…..

Arthur thought of the endless babbling it would necessarily involve and his head began to spin again, although he had forgotten one very important figure in his enumeration of talkative people trying to explain the impossible to a defenceless warlock. In other words, he had forgotten his sister.

For once, Uther's son actually _was _lucky.

Morgana, furious, eyes sparkling, jaws set and hands trembling, rushed into her sister's chambers from the other side of the palace, banging the door against the wall as if she wanted to crush it. "What on Earth did you think you were doing, Morgause?"

"I take it you're talking about Merlin."

"Yes, I _am_ talking about him. Are you mad?"

"Far from it, sister. It had to be. For the sake of our alliance."

"How did you find the damned idiot in the first place? What for? Merlin will never trust us, nor will I ever trust him. There won't _be_ an alliance if he has his way."

"I found him where Armand of Morgwyn had put him, to have him out of the way while Uther went finally mad on his own accord. And by the way, did you ever see that Merlin had his way when Arthur was of another inclination?"

Morgana hesitated. "No" she finally admitted. "But even so he has a considerable influence on Arthur sometimes."

"Why should that trouble you? You've nothing to hide from your brother anymore, and as for Arthur's trust…." Stubbornly Morgause chose to ignore the unpleasant scene between her and the Pendragon Prince. "You'll have to regain it step by step, with or without this annoying peasant boy being around."

"But Merlin hates me…." Morgana started but her sister had no wish to discuss this anymore and this time Morgause brought her foot down.

Morgana left, sulking and without so much as wishing her sister a good night.

Some hours later Gaius arrived, as was his habit while he thought the improvement of Morgause's spine to be still fragile.

"I've received a necklace" the healer finally said. "It was a most generous gift. I'm grateful."

"I do not doubt I will regret it" Morgause retorted acidly.

"I wonder. It must have taken a great deal of courage to allow Morgana to wear it. At least after you'd learned whose essence the jewel harboured."

"The way she spoke of him, how much she hated him, how deeply his betrayal had hurt her, it was clear that this servant had once meant very much to her. Nobody can hate a person like that if this person has been unimportant before."

"I can hardly believe that you should have wanted to cure your sister of this hatred. Not unless you saw some advantage in it."

"Armand was right" Morgause said softly while she dressed again. "Your accursed protégé was the only one who could help her. And she needed all the help she could get."

Gaius knew he was witnessing a very rare event. Not everybody had an opportunity to see the High Priestess of the Isle without her mask of self-control and regal composure. "Does she know what the necklace really was?"

"No. And she must never know. I've told her that Armand had meant the necklace to calm her, to focus her, just like the bracelet I gave to her. We all need her to think that it was all her idea in the first place, Arthur, this alliance, going back to Camelot – all of it."

"Naturally."

"I mean it, Gaius. If Arthur were to know…"

"He'd think it was all a ruse, that neither you nor Morgana were serious. As long as you _are _serious, I'll never tell him."

"Then the price of humiliating myself by bringing this pathetic excuse for a sorcerer back to life was not too high. Besides…" she broke off.

"Since when have you known?" Gaius asked calmly.

Morgause winced, an unusual sight. "The moment she had taken the throne I could close my eyes to her true nature no longer" she finally said. "Did _you _know?"

"I think I did. But I didn't want to know it. She was wonderful as a child. There was a time when everyone in Camelot was besotted with her, especially Arthur. I didn't want to believe what she would become, even though the signs were there."

"She can't help what she is, she was born with it. Your precious Merlin's magic is of the Druid kind, a gift from nature, as natural as running water or roaring thunder. But so is Morgana's." Agitatedly Morgause began to pace the room, ignoring the pain she still felt from her injury. "Your ward was born a child of the Goddess of Light, while my sister was born a child of the Dark Mother. Darkness and Light, Love and Hatred, Creation and Destruction - only together they form a full circle, the whole of life."

"And yet the Druids and also you as the High Priestess would be obliged to have your sister secured, even executed, if her nature became obvious. It is an ancient law of the Isle."

"Then we both will have to make sure that her nature does _not_ become obvious. Surely you can appreciate my concern for my sister. I guess your concern for your august Prince and Camelot is just as deep."

"Are we now approaching the real reason for your bringing Merlin back?"

"I said it was a gesture of good faith, to you and most of all to Arthur, and I meant it."

"So it had nothing to do with Morgana?"

Abruptly Morgause turned and to his surprise he was touched by the tears in her eyes. For some reason he had always assumed that this woman was unable to cry.

"The necklace worked only because my sister had once been in love with a servant boy. There is still a bond between them. What is wrong about me wanting to use this bond to keep her with us?"

"Your sister has been born with the magic of a Destroyer." Gaius' voice was hard when he finally said what they had been circumventing, as if keeping it unsaid could make it undone somehow. "Sooner or later she herself will find out."

Morgause raised her head and the soft, emotional part of her was gone. She was as imperious and as dangerous as she had always been. "Then, for the sake of all you hold dear, I'd advise you to make sure that she finds out _later_!"


	23. Sir Leon's plight

**23. Sir Leon's plight**

Malcolm of Saltyre shook his head and sighed. "By the Gods' love Sir Leon, it'll help no one if you fret yourself to death."

"Which part of 'I won't condone the Prince's actions' you don't understand? Whatever you say, neither I nor the others will accompany you and your brother back to the siege of Camelot, and that's final."

"Who's made you the will and voice of you all? Elyan, Lance and Percival – they said nothing to me about being _your_ loyal subjects!" Malcolm felt anger rising inside him again. Sometimes talking to Arthur's former second in command was like talking to a solid brick-wall. "Besides, you're taking much on yourself. What the Prince does or does not do is for him to decide."

"_I _for one will not go against my lawful King!"

"My dear Sir Leon, you already _have_ gone against King Uther; on the day you left him" Malcolm roared, irritated beyond endurance by this idiotic as well as insulting remark. "You've agreed the principle, now you'll agree the price! As did we all."

"I will not violate the Knights' Code. I am a Knight of Camelot and a Knight of the Round Table. As such I've sworn an oath ..."

"To your _lawful _Crown Prince and to him alone. Would you prefer to renew that oath to Monseigneur le Comte D'Auvergne? What about your precious honour then, you hypocritical oaf?"

"Take that back or I'll have to kill you, you..."

"Heavens above, have you no brain at all in that thick head of yours? We are way - way! - beyond such childish nonsense." Branguard's arm swept everything in his reach from the table; a goblet, two plates and some bottles, they all clattered to the floor with a horrible crash.

"Just as well that you ignore the obligations you have to me and Angus for taking you in when you had nowhere else to go but a Druid's tent" Malcolm raged on. "But you have no right to stick your head in the sand when it comes to those whose very lives might depend on you."

"Arthur's disgraced himself. And us. To form an alliance with Morgana and her sister, of all people...I don't know what kind of madness has come over the Prince, but I will have no part in it."

"Either the Prince takes the Crown or he'll spend the rest of his life incarcerated; while you and I and all the others go to the scaffold, one by one. Knowing the King, Arthur's window will command a splendid view of his wife's and child's execution. That's what _I'd_ call madness!"

"Morgana claimed she loved the King, and her brother but she betrayed them both! She betrayed us all."

"So what? Uther betrayed his own son. Runs in the family then. Just Arthur's bad luck that the character trait has passed him by."

"_You_ have no right to tell me what to do. You turn your coat when and wherever it suits you."

"That's right" Branguard said, much calmer now. "I'd do everything to protect my brother and our family inheritance. I'm not proud of it. But at least I know my priorities."

Leon's cheeks grew hot at that. Damn, he wasn't very good at this kind of conversations. As soon as he felt trapped he took refuge at insults he regretted immediately afterwards. "My Lord Saltyre, I had no intention..."

"Stop insulting my intelligence as well as my honour" Branguard spat. "You had _every_ intention of offending me. Until now you've been spared the really hard decisions and you could afford to be on a morally high horse. Looks to me as if these times are over, Sir Leon."

The knight wanted to say something to that but Branguard gave him no opportunity. "However, I did not come to berate you. We've got a visitor who is much more called to do just that."

"What do you..."

"He's talking about me, Leon."

Sir Leon's face became as white as chalk. Rarely in his life had he been so mortally ashamed. It was a certainty that the man who had been waiting behind Malcolm, hidden from sight by Saltyre's broad back and the half opened door had heard every word that had been said.

While Leon still tried to gather his wits about him, Branguard cocked a brow at the Prince and left silently.

"I'd assumed you'd not be very happy about …. the latest developments" Arthur said quietly while he pulled off his gloves. "I thought I owe you an explanation. Do you want to hear it or shall I leave now?"

"Sire, I...naturally you owe me nothing..." a mortified Leon stammered, wishing that the ground would split beneath his feet and swallow him whole. "_Gods, slay me and my darn blabbermouth_" he thought desperately.

"May I sit down?" Arthur smiled lightly when the knight made haste to pull a chair towards him. The simple stroke of work did wonders for Leon's agitated nerves, albeit some more wonders were still left to do.

"My Prince, I...I didn't want to say...I mean, I'd never doubt your honour. Not really. It's just that I….." the knight's voice trailed off and he looked at the Prince helplessly, his eyes wide and unwittingly pleading for some understanding.

"You have every right to doubt me and my motives" Arthur said deliberately. "That's why I wanted to come myself. It wasn't easy to persuade my sister and Morgause to let me go, with only Gwaine and Merlin for an escort, but..."

"So it is true? Merlin is alive? Your father did not kill him?"

Arthur winced under the onslaught of the unspoken words: "_Doesn't that change things?_"

"No, as long as he thought he and I could come to some ...reconciliation in the end, the King preferred to let Merlin go. Naturally that was before Osric's ritual."

"Then what happened to him? Where was he?" Right now Leon thought Merlin to be the most important subject in the world. He'd be glad to discuss each and every subject right now at great length, everything but the subject at hand.

"As far as I understand it, Merlin somehow learned that I was in trouble and he ran after me, as he always does. He met another sorcerer on the way who held him prisoner, for some magical purposes. Morgause found him and freed him. Merlin has no wish to tell me any details and I find it hard to press him into anything these days."

Leon noticed the remote coolness in Arthur's way of speaking. In any other tone of voice these words would have been timid, even whining. As it was, they sounded indifferent, uncaring and slightly arrogant. The knight was at a loss at what to think of that attitude. Most of all as he had no idea whether it was real or feigned.

"_Morgause_ freed him?" Leon finally asked, thinking that he had to say _something_. "I...I thought she hates him even more than the rest of us. At least from what Gaius told me..."

Arthur raised his hand in a 'just so-so' gesture. "She called it a token of her good will and I think I believe her. Presently she's eager to please. Her – most reluctant – permission for me to come here, to talk to you and the others, is proof of that."

"She hardly runs a risk. As long as Guinivere and your daughter are still with her, there's no hope of escape for you."

"I see you've read Gwaine's letter to Branguard most carefully." Arthur rose, tucked his fingertips in the seam of his pants behind his back and strolled over to the window. "It's not like that, Leon. I'm not her prisoner." The slight grin came back to his face when he added "at least, not any more. And she didn't force me into this alliance."

Leon's disbelieving face was clearly visible in the glass of the window pane, and Arthur shrugged as casually as possible. "It's just that I have nowhere else to go. My family and I could go to Gaul, we could go to another Kingdom – it would be no use. If the King wouldn't find us, one of his friends or enemies would. After Osric's ritual I'm no longer human. I'm a much sought-after commodity, available to anyone who pays the right price."

The way Arthur said it, it sounded perfectly reasonable; a self-evident fact that hardly needed mentioning because it was so obvious. Not important enough to give it much thought, let alone self-pity.

"What makes you think you'd be better off with your sister than with somebody else who uses you as a figurehead?" Leon bit on his lip. "_Blabbermouth_" he thought again. "_Blabbermouth, blabbermouth, blabbermouth_."

"I think in her own way she loves Camelot as much as I do. She just thought Camelot loved _me_, not her." Arthur smiled sarcastically. "That's part of what made her so angry. You know what people say about non-reciprocated love."

His composure seemed to be a bit artificial, but not completely and Leon had no idea what to make of it. It was unnerving. He had always thought that Arthur was an open book. "So you thought you could give her a second chance. What if she turns out to be exactly the murderous bitch I think she is?"

"Then I'd have to stop her, would I not?"

"You and which invincible army?" Leon rolled his eyes to heaven for this effrontery. He'd never thought he _could_ speak like that to his princely commander.

"A bunch of men called the Knights of the Round Table has done the trick before" Arthur answered gently. "Or so I've heard."

Leon flinched angrily. "So you've already spoken to the others. Before you came to me."

"As Malcolm so aptly put it: Who's died and made you the leader of the pack?"

The blow hit home and it took some swallowing. Leon needed a while before he could say something. "Forgive me, Sire. I must have mistakenly thought that all the years we've been together would give me the right of first choice."

"They do, but only for you, not for the others" Arthur replied. "But rest assured, I did not seek out the others before I came to you. Gwaine and Merlin are speaking to them this very moment. I have no doubt that they can persuade Elyan and Lance, if only for their desire to see Guinivere. Besides, Lance feels he has an obligation to Merlin. And where Lance goes, Percival will follow. He always does."

"That leaves me."

"Yes. That leaves you." Arthur turned and met Leon's unsure gaze steadily. "I could do with your help, Leon. But I cannot order you to go against your conscience."

"It's a miracle that Merlin should agree with what you're doing" Leon blurted out. "And I do not see a reason for Lance to be so eager to see your wife." Leon knew he was deliberately digressing from the issue at hand again. And he regretted it at once when he saw Arthur wince visibly, while a shadow flickered over his so far unmoved, unreadable face.

"Leave the others' motives to the others" the Prince replied sharply. "Or to me, if that suits you better. It's you we're talking about."

"Well, I guess with Merlin you have at least one sorcerer who is reliably on your side" Leon evaded a direct answer once more. "Although I still can't really believe that he is one."

"Oh, he is one, believe me. He can even teach Morgause a lesson or two." Arthur smiled again at the memory of Merlin's instinctive reaction to Morgause in Doloreux. "I had a hard time accepting it, too. That he should have lied to me all these years..." the Prince shrugged again, as if he dismissed a thought. "But then I realized that they both had no other choice if they wanted to survive. Merlin or Morgana – King Uther has hovered over their lives like a dark, cold shadow. I was caught in the middle and I didn't even know it."

Abruptly, Arthur looked away and turned towards the door. "Just as well that my former manservant came to terms with his grudges against my sister. But I can hardly expect you to do the same." He took up his gloves. "This is farewell then, Leon. I wish you all the best."

"Staying with you would be easier if you hadn't changed so very much." Again Leon had blurted that out almost against his will.

Arthur halted in mid-stride. "Changed?"

"Frankly, I hardly recognize you. You were always so full of passion. For Camelot. For all of us. You seemed to burn with it. It always carried us away, made us think that we're special, that we could do anything, that...oh I don't know. But now you're as cold as ice, as if you cared for nothing and for no one in this world. You remind me of..."

Arthur darted around, his eyes blazing and his face flushed with barely suppressed rage. "I remind you of whom?"

"_That's torn it"_ Leon thought. "_I might as well go on and finish myself for all eternity_."

"You remind me of your father, Sire."

The Prince swallowed hard. Briefly he lost control of his features and Leon saw the hurt he had caused in a man whose purpose in life had once been to impress Uther Pendragon. Arthur had once wanted to become his father's spitting image, and he had paid a very high price for the final realization that this wish had been a mistake.

"It was, correct me from wrong" the Prince replied laboriously "my impression that the King still has your full allegiance."

"Sire, my oath to Camelot..."

"No need to go on, Sir Leon. I understand perfectly." Suddenly Pendragon was in an awful hurry to leave. He was fast. But not fast enough.

"Arthur, wait!" Without thinking, Leon grabbed the Prince's arm and jerked him to a halt. All he knew was that he did not want them to part like this, after all the years they'd spent together. The Prince's shirt opened at the front and the scar on his chest became visible, looking as angry and terrifying as it had looked when it had been burned in.

Leon let go of Arthur's wrist immediately. All of a sudden the memory of that day in Devil's Claw was back, fresh and raw as if it had been yesterday. The sounds and images. The blood, the humiliation. The tied up body, writhing and jerking in almost silent agony, robbed of the possibility to scream, to let his tormentor know what he was doing to him. And to crown it all, the sickening stench of burned flesh.

That the wrist he had held a split second ago was whole again was nothing less than a miracle, Leon realized belatedly. A miracle that had nothing to do with Uther Pendragon; it had been brought about by other people. People who, should they ever fall into the King's hands, would die a horrible death for this very miracle. For this was a King who had drowned children for their parents' doings. Who had eradicated complete villages, destroyed whole families. And finally his own.

Suddenly Leon even remembered that his Prince was a few years his junior.

Meanwhile Arthur had hastily closed his shirt. "If you have another lecture for me in loyalty and honourable behaviour, please spare me" he snapped.

"What I wanted to say is that I gave my oath for the love of Camelot. For a Camelot that was build on trust and loyalty. If you think that there is a chance to rebuild that Camelot with your sister at your side, I...I ... pledge you my loyalty, My Lord. As I have done before."

Taken by surprise, Arthur's gaze searched the other's face carefully. "Are you sure? Is that what you want, Leon?" and in this moment, the armour of ice that had surrounded Uther's son was full of holes.

"I _am_ sure, My Lord. I've accepted you as my Liege before and I want to confirm this oath, here and now." Truth to be said, Leon felt very unsure of himself, much more so than he cared to admit, but he'd be damned if he'd let that show.

"If your sister keeps her side of the bargain, I'll not question her or your decisions again" the knight continued. "If she does not …. you should not have to face her alone, My Lord."

It was the very least the young man in front of him deserved, Leon thought. If what he said wasn't perfectly true right now, it would _be_ true later on, on that he was hell-bent.

Arthur gulped audibly. "If that is really what you want, I..."

"For heaven's sake, give the man a break, Arthur. Ask him once more and he may yet change his mind. And we're so very desperate, we need even him."

Both knight and Prince spun around to look at Gwaine's smirking face in the door-frame.

Leon stared hard at the walking menace of his life. He looked at Lance, Percival, Elyan and at a certain young warlock who, other than his grinning friends, looked very shy, visibly not knowing what to expect from his knightly counterpart. A bit late Leon remembered that Merlin could not yet know how he would react to a warlock-in-disguise.

"Seems to me that the Round Table is once more complete" Percival said, visibly beaming with pride that for once it had been him, the tongue-tied one, who had found the right words in the right moment.

"Except for a lovely girl and an old man" Gwaine pointed out. Percy looked crestfallen while Lance and Elyan both rolled their eyes in despair.

Suddenly Leon felt that something was stuck in his throat.

He swallowed hard, trying even harder to put on a grim face. All the while he knew that he had never felt less grim in his life.

Not even once.


	24. Ultimatum

**24. Ultimatum**

"What do you mean, Morgause went to meet the King in my place!" Arthur roared at the top of his voice and Morgana's cheeks grew red hot in a second.

"Uther and our dear Gaulish relatives got Ravenclaw's ultimatum and Uther demanded to meet with you. Morgause took your old chain-mail, asked Algernon and Merlin to come along and went to talk to our father in your place. Have you got it now or shall I call for an interpreter?"

"How dare you make a decision like that without consulting me first? She had no right to take Merlin with her."

"He didn't exactly scream and kick when she asked him…"

"That's not the point, Morgana. High Priestess or no, Morgause does _not_ own each and every magician in the land. And she most certainly does not own _my_ men."

"If we'd asked your leave, you'd only said that you wanted to go yourself" Morgana said defensively.

"You're damned right, that's exactly what I should have done."

"Don't be ridiculous Arthur; if you'd gone anywhere near our father, you'd be chained down in the deepest dungeon by now. _If_ you were still alive that is!"

"Her Ladyship is right, Your Grace." Ravenclaw found it was time to intervene, before the royal siblings would start a wrestling match. "If your father ever got hold of you again, we'd be finished."

However, Arthur was in no mood for logic. "I'd be grateful if Your Lordship kept your mouth shut while I'm talking to my sister!" he gnarled threateningly and Armand of Morgwyn, schooled in many years as a member of Uther Pendragon's Court, found it wise to bow and withdraw.

For all his wisdom and self-control, this was not his lucky day. Once outside he ran into Angus of Bodmin. "There you are" Angus shouted in profound relief. "I've been looking for you all over the place."

"What brings me the displeasure?"

Branguard decided to ignore that. "I wanted to know….I thought you might have news about Agnes. I mean, My Lady of Ravenclaw, your wife."

Armand inhaled sharply. This was what he had been dreading for some time now. Roughly he took Branguard's arm and pushed him to the side, away from any nosy eyes and ears. "She's dead, Angus. Uther had her executed the day before he rode off to Devil's Claw."

Bodmin's face fell and he blinked, unable to cope. This came to him as a hideous shock, and he could have done with a less sudden and more considerate way of hearing it.

"I'm sorry, Angus. I know you won't believe me, but I am. I know she meant the world to you."

Branguard shuddered lightly. He avoided Armand's gaze while he covered his face with both hands.

It was one of the very rare occasions on which the High Master felt horribly inadequate and clumsy. "'She's loved you too, you know. You've always been the centre of her life. When your son was born dead, she was heartbroken."

Angus stumbled over his own feet and fought for his balance. "You _knew_?"

"You had that affair running for almost thirty years. It was hard to miss, especially as she became pregnant although I've never touched her." Morgwyn shrugged awkwardly. "She knew I'd taken her for her money and her name alone. I had no right to come between you and her again."

"But you…she was your wife, after all."

Armand looked down at his feet. "I've found…others to occupy my time." No use mentioning that the High Master had always preferred women of his own kind. For magicians being together was…different.

"She never told me" Branguard muttered. Another shudder ran down his spine. "Do you…. Do you know how…."

"Uther had her beheaded. It was quick and painless, I'm sure."

"She must have been so very scared" Angus said forlornly. He wanted to be alone. One minute more in the other's presence and he'd crack, for all to see.

"She had a spine made of steel" Armand broke into his thoughts. "I've always thought her to be one of the bravest persons I've known."

Angus only nodded, unsure if his voice would obey him. He turned to leave when a thought struck him. "You said she was killed _before_ Uther came to Devil's Claw? But I thought you were incriminated as the one who'd pressed Arthur into committing High Treason only afterwards."

Armand clenched his jaws and looked to heaven. Trust Angus of Branguard becoming clear sighted in the worst possible moment. "Uther had our marriage dissolved on the day of her arrest. The King wanted to cashier the Ravenclaw liege; it had proven too powerful an asset for everyone who holds it. Agnes was the last rightful heir. She was not yet 50, she could have remarried. That's why she had to die."

Branguard nodded again. Then he pulled himself together. "Thank you for telling me. If you'd excuse me now, I've things to discuss with my brother."

"Of course, My Lord Earl" Armand said very formally. "With your permission I'll excuse you from the Prince's Council if needs be."

"Is there to be a Council?" Angus asked absent-mindedly. "I've heard Uther had asked to see his son somewhere in the forest near the citadel."

"Morgause went in Arthur's place. Surely the reason is obvious."

"Well then…" Branguard muttered senselessly and made haste to leave.

With a dreadful feeling Armand watched the devastated man walk away. For a moment he wished that Algernon's original assumption – that the High Master had no conscience – had been correct. It would have made things much easier for the Baron of Ravenclaw.

Almost an hour later, Algernon had much more pressing things on his mind. "I don't like this" he said to Merlin, who, like the Druid, was hiding behind the dense row of trees that closed the western side of the clearing in which King Uther had agreed to meet with his 'son'. "I don't like this one bit."

"After all the horrible stories you've told me about the Blessed Isle's oppression of the Druids I'd thought you'd rejoice if Morgause was killed today" Merlin replied derisively.

Algernon shifted uncomfortably. "I must say, I've expected more understanding from the great Emrys" he whispered back angrily. "Our situation is …. complicated. We want the Old Religion re-established as much as Morgause does. But once the Blessed Isle has been rebuild; it'll be your task to protect our liberty from its overbearing power. That's what our legends have foretold. It's your destiny."

"Use that word once more and you'll never see me again. I've told you before, I already _have_ a destiny and believe me, this Prince is a handful."

"But don't you get it? It's all intertwined. Arthur, you, us, Morgause – it's all part of the big picture. You've destroyed the chosen path of destiny when you killed Nimueh. Now it's your task to lead us on another path towards the right end. Is that so hard to understand?"

"A fine leader I'll make if I cannot say one word without you biting my head off!"

"Emrys, you're not taking this seriously!"

"You're right, I'm not."

"Great Mother, do I have to blow and kick it into you, you…."

"Quiet!" Merlin hissed. "Someone's coming." He stretched his senses – eyes, ears and magic – as far as he could; fighting down the childish joy that for once _he_ had said that particular sentence to somebody else.

"Must be Uther's escort, to take him back home" Algernon mused. "About time, too."

"Then why are they coming from our camp's direction?" Merlin was already on his feet and grabbed for the hilt of the sword he had at his side.

"What are you going to do?" the Druid asked alarmed.

"Make sure that your Most Revered Lady outlives us all, heaven forgive me" the warlock answered, unknowingly quoting Gaius.

"With a _sword_?" Algernon's memory of the unhappy session with his elders over his attack on Uther was very fresh and he knew he was on trial in their eyes.

"No, with my overwhelming charm and personality" Merlin snapped back.

"Rub against royal arrogance and prattishness and it sticks on you" Algernon mumbled while he made haste to follow the chosen saviour of the Druid people. So far, Emrys had not been what he had expected him to be, not in the slightest. But then, what _could_ be expected of a young man who had spent years with the most arrogant, most stubborn and most overbearing dynasty in all Albion?

Morgause and Uther, both on horseback in the middle of the clearing, were oblivious of the events in their backs.

Actually, the sorceress was facing three Pendragons while she herself had left her escort behind in the brushwood. If one wanted to call one Druid and one very reluctant warlock an escort.

"I have nothing more to say to you" Uther just said, while Matilda and Becco watched the quarrel silently. "I will talk to Arthur and to him alone."

"Your Majesty is forgetting something" Morgause replied most gently. "You are no longer allowed to meet with your son."

The King's face darkened, but he did not know what to say. His predicament brought a merry smile to the sorceress' features. "You have made your precious son an outcast. It is, correct me from wrong, the law of the land which has always been so very precious to you."

Morgause's horse jerked its head nervously and she calmed it with a friendly pat before she looked at Uther again. "By Your Grace's order your son has become a piece of trash, only fit to dwell with the likes of me or your daughter."

This last remark went under Uther's skin. His hand found his sword hilt in the blink of an eye. "You've taken them both from me. It has been you, you and always you, from the very start."

A clatter of metal against metal, a sharp yelp of pain and then Becco gasped with terrified surprise while Uther's sword sailed gracefully through the air and out of sight.

Matilda, however, did not even flinch as her brother swore loudly and nursed his injured right hand in his arm pit. Instead she returned Morgause's gaze as steadily as before. The High Priestess made a mental note to keep that unwavering gaze and calmly resolved face in mind.

"I have to apologize" Morgause said velvety. "I forgot to mention that there is another reason why I did not allow your son to come here. You and your sword, you're too dangerous to him."

"Damn you, what have to done to him? What evil, foul magic have you used to convert both my children to your column?"

It was clear that Uther thought of torture, blackmail or some other forms of coercion and his genuine fear for his son was so very obvious, it made Morgause marvel at the man's ability to delude himself. Even she winced inwardly at the sight of tears in his eyes and a chin trembling in awe. Had he been somebody else, she'd ended the cruel cat and mouse game then and there. But for him she had no pity.

Still smiling benevolently, the High Priestess fired her last shot. "I've been waiting until Your Majesty would push them both into my lap. That was all I had to do."

She could read in his face that this poisoned arrow had found its mark in his very heart.

"There's more to this than revenge for the Great Purge and the destruction of the Isle" Uther finally muttered. "You could've killed me, a thousand times over. But you took my children from me instead."

"Don't you think it adequate?" Morgause replied, her soft, gentle composure never changing. "It was you who's taken my parents from me."

While Uther caught his breath, unable to reply anything for a second, Matilda cocked a brow and Becco looked from her to his uncle and back, a babe in the woods.

"Surely you remember me now, Comtess?" Morgause asked "My father Gorlois consented to me being taken away to the Blessed Isle on the day I was born. My mother got pregnant again, although her husband had not been at home for many weeks. Some years later he was murdered by the man who had fathered my sister. All in a day's work, to make Uther Pendragon a perfect King."

"Yes" Matilda said. "I know who you are. And believe me; I do know who my brother is."

Uther's head snapped round and he opened his mouth for a sharp reply that nobody would ever hear, as in this very moment the forest became alive.

A cavalcade of men – and two women – broke out of the tree line in full gallop and Morgause's horse shied. Horrified she felt her body slip down the side; she tried to regain her seating but for all her frantic attempts her spine was still stiff, not as agile as it once had been, and in the next second the bay stallion jumped and she fell down, head first.

As she entered the clearing, Morgana did not know that her sister was just unconscious. All she could see was Becco. He had dismounted and was now hovering over Morgause, a sword in his hand. With a loud scream she spurred her horse and it ran towards the pair at top speed. Yet she knew with absolute surety that the animal would not be fast enough.

Her scream echoed from the trees - something Arthur had heard before and again it was a completely unnatural, blood-freezing sound. His gaze flickered over the battle scene, searching for Morgana until he saw her; her body framed in darkness while her horse reared and a blinding light left her hands, hitting Hortensius' chest with vicious power.

Fascinated, Arthur watched as Becco was hurled up in the air and thrown back. The body sailed through the air for many metres until he crashed against a tree. Morgana urged her horse back down and raced once more towards her sister, but someone else overtook her. Arthur saw that Morgana and Merlin reached Morgause's limp body in the same moment, but after that, the Prince had no more time to watch.

Uther had distanced himself from the sorceress as soon as the attack had begun. Acting on instinct he had unsheathed his main gauche and tried to get a general view of what was going on. He almost jumped when he recognized Leon and the rest of Arthur's bunch as well as Malcolm of Saltyre among the approaching men. So it had been a trap, this whole meeting had been a trap.

Almost simultaneously, another thought struck him. Where these men were, his son could not be very far away. The King scrutinized the approaching horde and as he had assumed, his son was in the forefront of the group.

Uther grinned, a peculiar mixture of joy and anger dominating his thoughts. If Arthur thought he could get the better of his old man by such devious methods, he would soon see that Uther Pendragon wasn't easily fooled.

Gwen had trouble to keep her own mare in line as a shrill whistle resounded over the battlefield. The whistle let another row of men break from the trees that covered Camelot's walls; only that these men sported the crest of the Auvergne. Even without a knight's trained eye Gwen could see that her husband and his lot were vastly outnumbered. "_Morgause was right_" she thought with bitter anger "_the treacherous bastard put up a trap for his son_."

She pulled out her sword, lighter than that of a man but as deadly nevertheless, and in her mind she said good bye to her little daughter. Whatever happened here today, Uther would not have the satisfaction to catch her or Arthur alive.

"Guinivere, you must get out of here" Lance yelled when he suddenly showed up at her side. "It's too dangerous!"

"Where's Arthur?" she screamed back.

"Somewhere on the other side of the clearing. Now come on."

"But I….."

"Heavens woman, your man knows what he's doing. But he'll skin me alive if something happens to you."

"Let go of me" Gwen snarled but Lance did not heed her wishes as he lifted her from her horse and made haste to bring her back to safety. From the corner of his eye he saw Elyan wrestle with one of the Gaulish soldiers; Leon's sword met with that of an attacker simultaneously and Percival was just banging two men's heads together.

Gwen screamed, scratched and struggled for all she was worth but lying athwart his saddle, she hardly had any chance to reach a vulnerable part of Lancelot's skin.

"What are you doing?" Algernon yelled at the sight of Arthur's wife being abducted from the hurly-burly in the clearing by one of the Prince's own men.

"Thank God that you're here" a profoundly relieved Lancelot said. Without further ado he let Guinivere slip from the saddle, directly into the confused Druid's arms. "Take care of her. She must go back to the camp, understood?" and with that Lancelot hurried back to where the impromptu battle was now definitely turning against Arthur and his companions.

Gwaine saw it, too. There was no hope to defeat the Gaulish, they were just too many. Some of them had distanced themselves from the actual fighting, trying to lift their young Comte to a horse. Briefly Gwaine thought of attacking them, but he changed his mind. It was Uther that had to go before any of them, Prince or warlock or knight, would find a moment of peace.

Some minutes later, Matilda, an obviously unconscious Becco and a handful of their men raced back to the citadel and to safety.

While he finished one of his attackers with a quick thrust of his blade, Gwaine shook his head. Even so the remaining Gaulish forces were more than enough to bring the Prince's men down.

With a grim snort Gwaine clenched his jaws at the sight of Lance attacking three of the Gaulish at once. The foreigners pulled back and the man they had been fighting before became visible. With a start Gwaine recognized Arthur. Three other Gaulish lay at the Prince's feet; two still, the third stirring weakly, while six or seven other attackers made haste to reach Lancelot and his royal friend.

"Damn it, Ravenclaw, where are you and your men? Bodmin said you'd be with us in a minute" Gwaine muttered while he ran towards Arthur as fast as he could. He jumped over roots and big stones, evaded panicking horses and fighting men, the whole bloody mess of a fierce combat. It didn't bear contemplating what Merlin would have to say if something happened to his adored Prince.

In mid-stride, Gwaine's feet were caught in a viscous mass. He heard his heartbeat drumming in his ears and his breath rattling in his throat, but slowly, very slowly. The tree branches rustled in a warm wind that seemed to come from nowhere. But it became stronger and stronger. The Gaulish soldiers began to scream, their hands clawed at their eyes as if they wanted to dig them out of their sockets.

In the blink of an eye, the battle had been turned. In all places Arthur's men now gained the upper hand, while more and more Gaulish lost their ability to fight.

Gwaine turned; his eyes searched the spot where Morgause had been dismounted and there they were, Morgana and Merlin, the Princess and the peasant boy. In intimate togetherness, the two he had thought to be arch enemies let their magic flow and Uther's forces were completely helpless.

Arthur bent over with relief as he realized that the seemingly inevitable defeat had been turned into a full victory. All fighting had ceased, as all Gaulish were down on their knees. Some were crying helplessly, seeing heaven knew what. Whatever the two magicians had conjured up and planted into their enemies' minds, it worked a treat.

"Thank heaven" Lancelot said with a tiny smile. "I thought we were doomed." Then he frowned worriedly. "Arthur, you're bleeding."

Confused, the Prince looked down at his body and found his left side covered in blood. More was seeping from somewhere on his chest or shoulder. He had no clue when this had happened, at the time he hadn't felt a thing. "Must be a scratch or two" he murmured. Only now he realized that his sight was blurred and his ears were ringing with sounds that could not be real. His head chose this particular moment to begin spinning. Without the knight's supporting hand, he would have fallen.

With a quick look, Lance searched to gain Leon's attention and he got it. Leon was on his way immediately, leaving his former opponents to Percy's tender care.

"Stop fussing, Lance" Arthur murmured angrily. Then a thought struck him. "Where's Guinivere?" He remembered clearly that she had been behind him on their arrival. To hell with her refusal to stay in the camp, as he had ordered her to do. Why could this woman never listen to him?

"Over there, with Algernon" Lance replied. He hesitated, knowing how much Arthur resented being pampered or fussed about. Yet this time, there was nothing for it. The Prince could hardly stand. "This wound is serious, Arthur. It needs immediate looking after. Tell you what; Leon can take care of this mess. Go to your wife and let Algernon have a look at it. Or would you prefer Merlin tending to you?"

"Heaven forbid" the Prince slurred. "It's one thing if he makes the Gaulish cry. I can do without the privilege."

However, he turned and trotted off towards the Druid leader obediently; for everyone who knew him this obedience was a dead give-away that Arthur felt horrible. "Leon, you better take command" Lance said on his comrade's arrival. "The Prince is injured. I think we should….."

That was all Arthur heard before he was out of ear-shot. His mind was a bit hazed; the blood loss took its toll. Now that the battle's frenzy left him, the wound began throbbing and the pain grew with every step. He had trouble focussing. Briefly he thought that he should not leave it all to Leon; that it was his responsibility to decide what to do with his prisoners …...

Arthur heard Merlin's voice among the others when his friends suddenly screamed but he had no idea what this turmoil was about. Not until something took hold of his left wrist and twisted his arm on his back with one swift move.

The pain was blinding, breathtaking. If until now Arthur had not known that he had a very bad sword cut in his left side and another deep wound in his left shoulder, he definitely knew it now, as Uther twisted his son's arm brutally, hell-bent on subduing any struggle in advance.

Reflexively, Arthur jerked forward, away from his attacker, but it was no good. "Stay where you are!" an angry voice growled and his injured shoulder was twisted even harder until he had trouble staying conscious while a gush of blood ran down his side from the widened gap in his shoulder.

Uther felt the body in his arms give in and assumed some kind of foul play. His son had never been squeamish, a few cuts and bruises would not bring him down. "Don't you dare try to fool me, my boy" he said and jerked Arthur's arm even higher until one more push would dislocate the shoulder. "Quiet" he hissed into his son's ear as Arthur yelped with pain. "If you hope for some pity, think again."

Arthur's head felt as if would split any moment now, his vision was blurred and somehow everything seemed unreal, like a déjà vu in a bad dream. It had been like that before, he knew it, this voice had said something and then the pain had come, but that was about all he could remember.

When Leon, Gwaine and some of the others moved furtively towards him and his hostage, Uther pressed his knife against his son's throat. "Stay back. One false move and I kill him!" The blade pressed harder into the exposed skin and drew blood. Only a drop or two, nothing compared to what was coming from the other wounds but it let Arthur's friends freeze where they were.

All except one.

"I don't believe you!" Morgana said aloud. She looked at Merlin briefly but intently, before she began to walk slowly towards her father and her helpless brother.

At the sound of her voice, Arthur felt the hand at the knife shake. The grip on his arm weakened and instinctively he tried to break free. A hard jerk on his arm made him gasp, something gave way in his shoulder and his vision blackened. He felt sick; he had to gulp down what was climbing up his throat.

Uther felt his son's writhing cease and he did not care what might have brought that about. He was too busy thinking about a way of escape. One thing was certain; he would not leave Arthur behind. Not again. Taboo or no taboo, enough was enough. Now that the succession was in order, nobody would forbid him to find a life for himself and his son in private.

Meanwhile Morgana walked on. "Hang on, Arthur. This will be over soon." She moved slowly, leisurely, as if she had no care in the world but her eyes never left her father's face. "It's just old Uther Pendragon again little brother, trying to scare you witless."

"Stay back, I said!"

"Or what, old man?" She smiled contemptuously. "You kill your own son? Like you've killed his mother?"

"Morgana, don't. He doesn't know what he's doing." Merlin had his heart in his throat while he looked on. If only that damned knife would leave the Prince's throat, just for a moment. Other than Morgana, the warlock was perfectly convinced that Uther would cut his son's throat before he'd let him go.

But the witch only shrugged. She came to a halt a few steps away from the King and his hostage, her arms folded before her chest. "Oh, but he does, Merlin. He is the King of Camelot after all. He may lock his son up, he may blackmail him, beat him, even torture him. He has done so before. But he will not kill him."

With a cocky movement she shook back her hair and smiled even broader. "You can't fool me, _father._ You weren't even able to kill me while you still had the chance."

Arthur was jerked out of his half-conscious state when he was pulled back forcibly, away from his sister. "I'd much rather kill him than letting him fall into your hands again" Uther gnarled deep in his throat while he walked back, holding his son in front of him like a living shield.

Morgana wasn't ruffled. "It wasn't our hands he needed saving from."

"Shut up!"

"You could easily silence me, _father_. This might well be your very last chance to get rid of me."

In this second, Uther reached two of the abandoned horses that, oblivious of the humans' idiotic antics, had used the break in the deafening turmoil for grazing. "Get on that horse. _Now_!" Arthur's arm was finally released; then he was pushed towards the animal. The big blade pricked his back between his shoulder blades, leaving no room for doubt as to what would happen should he refuse.

However, nature caught up with Uther's intentions. Arthur looked at the horse and knew that, no matter what, he would not be able to mount. His stomach twisted at the mere thought of taking one of his staggering feet up from the ground and pulling his failing body upwards. Wearily he shook his head. "No. I…"

"I said, get on that horse!" Uther pushed his son once more, his fist hitting the injured shoulder with force. Arthur screamed and the already vexed mare had enough. She bolted, but not before she had bitten the young man who had spooked her, and Uther needed a mere second too long before he realized that his hostage was falling down, out of the knife's reach.

In this very second, the King froze. Ice seemed to crawl through his veins. His arms and legs became limp, his feet no longer supported him and he fell to his knees. Speechless with surprise and awe he looked at his daughter – and at the young warlock at her side. "_I should have killed you the day you came to my castle_" he thought. "_Nothing of this would have happened without you_."

Slowly, deliberately Morgana went towards her father, unsheathing her dagger as she walked, while Merlin and Leon jumped to Arthur's side. The warlock saw Algernon and Gwen running towards them, Gwen calling her husband's name again and again.

Merlin also saw Morgana approaching her father like a cat would approach a cornered mouse. "You promised Arthur, Morgana. You promised to let Uther live."

"My brother does not rule my life" she snapped back.

"But your promises should."

She hesitated. "Morgana, please. You know Arthur, he'd never forgive you. Or himself."

"Go to hell." Her eyes were sparkling with rage, but she sheathed her knife and turned away from her intended victim. Merlin's stomach twisted when he saw tears in her eyes. "Morgana, I'm sorry" he said. "I…." and he had eyes and ears only for her and for her renewed anger at him. Why this should be so very important to him he did not know but somehow, absurdly, idiotically, his very life seemed to depend on what she was thinking of him.

With both magicians' attention distracted, Uther rolled out of his daughter's reach and up to his feet. He roared when he jumped at Morgana; suddenly father and daughter were fighting over the dagger at her side.

Like one man Lance and Elyan put themselves between Uther and his son – or was it between Uther and Guinivere? - while Gwaine and Leon, independently of each other, decided that this did it.

In the blink of an eye Uther found himself attacked from two sides at once. He pushed Morgana out of his way and dived for his own knife that lay still on the ground nearby.

He, the knights and Morgana were screaming with rage.

Up to the second in which a crossbow's arrow came out of nowhere and hit the bull's eye, directly in the chest of the King of Camelot.

In the first moment of shock, the clearing was silent.

Until something stirred among the trees and Angus Branguard emerged. The sight of the crossbow in his hands let the last piece of the puzzle snap into place in Merlin's head. "So that's why you told the Prince that Uther was going to kill Morgause" he said disbelievingly.

"Naturally" Angus answered. "Without your support I'd never been able to come close enough for this shot unnoticed. It's just a pity he isn't dead yet." Angrily he prodded Uther with his foot. "By the way, sorry for delaying Ravenclaw, I needed the time." He nodded at Arthur. "I couldn't see much of the fight. Is the Prince hurt?"

It was his last coherent sentence before Merlin lounged out and knocked him over the head with a vengeance.

As Malcolm took exception to that, another chaos commenced that almost ended in the Gaulish overpowering their captors. It was just as well that at least Percival had always kept a wary eye on them.

The turmoil was ended only by the arrival of Ravenclaw with 100 of his men and the day's nightfall found the two Branguards under arrest, Arthur in the for once not too loving care of an enraged Gaius and Guinivere, Merlin with Gwaine and the others taking care of each other's bruises and Uther, of all men, as a "guest" in Ravenclaw's camp.

The last visit Armand made on this day was in Arthur's quarters in an old, half dilapidated mill house. He nodded at Guinivere, who had her hands full with nursing Margaly _and_ her husband. Gaius, after much ranting and raving about human stupidity in general and that of a certain Prince in particular, had done what he could to patch Arthur up. Then he went to look after the others, not without mumbling on about serious concussions, almost fatal sword wounds and the fact that he was getting on in years; his healing magic being not what it once was.

"I agree with our physician" Ravenclaw said. "It's a bad habit getting oneself injured and almost killed once a week. Your Royal Highness should grow out of it quickly. It's bad for the nerves of your friends."

Arthur smiled ruefully. "I guess my wife would agree with you."

"You bet I do!" she said and out she was; an angry frown still on her face, muttering something about some refreshments which she, for one, really needed.

"Wife quarrel?" Armand asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "She's not the only one who thinks I've been stupid to chase off like that, without waiting for your reinforcements to join me."

"It was a bit rash" Armand replied. "But I understood you were worried about Lady Morgause's safety. She's fine by the way."

"I'm glad to hear it. What good is a dead ally to anyone, eh?"

"You're sure that that was all that made you chase off to save her skin?"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably on his cot. "I know that to you she means so much more than an ally. But to me…... it takes some getting used to, to see a friend in her, not an enemy."

Armand's face straightened. "You know who I am?"

"Morgause told me, a while ago, on our way here. She also said to try and come to an arrangement for Morgana and myself was your idea in the first place. Although you had no clue as to how to bring it about before the King did….what he has done."

Morgwyn heaved a silent sigh of relief. For a moment he had thought Morgause had told Arthur that he could have prevented almost everything that had befallen him and his friends. Apparently, she had kept the details to herself. Especially the details about a certain necklace and a young Princess' rather volatile personality.

"I think I owe you a debt of gratitude for trying to come to a peaceful solution, for Camelot _and_ for the Isle of the Blessed" Arthur continued. "I do not know how many more magicians plotting a revenge for the Great Purge Camelot could survive. Let alone a second purge."

Briefly the High Master marvelled at the Prince's ability to casually accept the revelation of a manipulating magician at the very heart of Camelot. But then, Arthur had accepted a magician in his servant friend and in his healer. And maybe, just maybe, in his sister. "Rest assured My Lord, that you owe me nothing. If you and My Most Revered Lady can rebuild both my homes in peace, I'll be more than justly rewarded."

They both blushed a bit at the emotionality of that remark and decided to leave the subject. Arthur even swallowed what he had wanted to say about 'Ravenclaw's' wife. He for one had been as sentimental as he wanted to get.

"Speaking of this 'second purge'" Armand said "Gaius is certain that Uther will survive. I've spoken to both Morgana and Morgause, and while your sister was adamant at first that he should die as soon as possible, the High Priestess leaves the decision to you."

"Sounds as if she really values our alliance" Arthur murmured.

"I am sure that she does" Armand said. "I'm also sure that Uther's fate will decide the outcome of this siege. Neither dear Becco nor his charming mother will be able to hold out without him as a figurehead." He leaned against the nearest wall and scrutinized Arthur's face. "What are you going to do with your father, Sire?"

Arthur pulled his uninjured arm upwards and laid his head on it. "I wish I knew" he said softly. "Great Gods, what I would give if I knew what to do with Uther Pendragon."


	25. What was to be unexpected

**A/N: To my Russian friend dddead:**

**There is no other way of reaching you, as you've disabled your private messaging function. So I'm using this way to tell you how much your kind messages are appreciated. I sincerely hope you'll enjoy the rest of "The second Prince" just as much. Many, many thanks to you, Jammeke and all the others who have sent me reviews for the encouragement.**

**25. What was to be unexpected**

"But how is this possible?" Beneath her usual cool, superior demeanour Morgause was virtually seething with rage; no one needed magic to notice that. "When Armand left him last night, he was fine."

"Indeed he was" Gaius confirmed as soothingly as he dared, but it did him little good.

"How do you explain this relapse then? Damn it, Arthur was _dying_ when Guinivere called you in an hour ago!" Morgause slammed her fist on the table, her brown eyes gleaming with anger. "Are you getting senile? Maybe we should entrust the Prince to somebody else's care!"

Inwardly the old healer sighed. He knew that kind of cold but nonetheless burning rage from Uther. Sometimes Morgause seemed to be a Pendragon herself. "Your bad mood tells me that your spine is once more troubling you. Your Ladyship might wish to entrust that to your own healers' care, too."

This somewhat embarrassing reminder of her own magicians' ineptitude for curing her worked like a gush of cold water on the fire of Morgause's wrath. "We are not discussing _my_ health here" she snapped, albeit not as loud and sharp as before "but what the hell has happened to Arthur since last night."

"I don't know what caused his relapse. But I've been called just in time. He will make a full recovery."

"That's what you've promised yesterday, and look where that left us!"

"It left _**my**_ husband with the most capable healer we have" Gwen cut in. She was angry, too and it clearly showed. "I for one have complete trust in Gaius."

Morgause opened her mouth for a sharp reply but Guinivere pre-empted her. "As this is settled, someone should change Margaly's diapers and someone has to talk to Matilda's messenger. What will it be for you Morgause, the nappies or the talking?"

For a second the High Priestess panted for air, speechless with astonishment that anyone, _anyone_ in this world, should dare talking to her like that.

"I wouldn't exactly trust my sister with a baby" Morgana said before Morgause could give in to the admittedly childish but still overwhelming wish to turn this insolent serving girl into a toad "but I think a High Priestess will make a decent enough negotiator."

"Don't order me around, Morgana..." Morgause found back her voice.

"'Sister, please" Morgana interrupted her sternly. "You and our precious High Master here…." - she had never troubled herself with hiding her dislike of Armand of Morgwyn - "are our natural leaders as long as Arthur is... incapacitated. After all, the Baron of Ravenclaw _is_ the highest ranking noble in this rebellion."

"Surely your voice counts more than mine or your sister's" Armand said smoothly. "You are the future Queen of Camelot."

"At my brother's side, perhaps. Without him, I'm the woman who's betrayed King and country. Wasn't that what you've been ramming into me for almost a year now?" Morgana's voice was dripping acid sarcasm and her lips sported the matching sneer. Yet it did not reach her eyes. Armand's gaze flickered over the other faces that surrounded him. Gaius, Guinivere, an extremely pale Merlin who had been uncharacteristically quiet so far - something was wrong here. _Very_ wrong.

All of a sudden, Ravenclaw bowed to Morgana and turned to the High Priestess. "Shall we go, My Lady? I think we've outstayed our welcome." After a moment of insecurity, Morgause nodded and Armand blessed her good instincts. So she had sensed it too. The High Master had a very nasty suspicion of what Arthur's friends were keeping from them and one thing was certain – if word of this leaked out, it would be the end of all their plans and hopes for the future.

On her way out Morgause gave her sister a withering look, making clear beyond doubt that this was not the last Morgana had heard about proper behaviour towards a leader of the Old Religion, but for the moment the younger sister just grinned and shrugged and that was that.

How much of Morgana's cheekiness was sheer pretence became obvious as she slumped unto the table the second Morgause and Armand had closed the door behind them. Wearily she rubbed her face with both hands. The gesture was so similar to one of her brother's signature gestures that it cut through Merlin's heart like a knife.

"We're done for" she muttered. "My brother has decided to desert us and with that my father has won the game."

"Us!" Gwen suddenly yelled. "_Us_? My husband has decided to leave _me_ and his daughter out in the rain! So maybe without him _you_ can't take Camelot. I say to hell with it, castle, people, the whole bloody realm can go and rot. Without Arthur Margaly and I are done for, we're finished; I might as well take my child and break her neck!" She shook her head violently, trying to blink away tears of anger and humiliation. "I trusted him. I'll never forgive him for abandoning me like that. I'll never forget that he loved his damned father more than me!" She turned, ran out and slammed the door behind her as if she wanted to bring down the whole ruined mill-house around them.

"Do you think I've gone through all that trouble of saving you and your brat only to let you perish in the gutter? Margaly is my _niece_, you stupid cow!" Morgana roared after her. But she got no response and she hadn't really expected one. "And Uther's grandchild, Gods help her" the sorceress resumed her original trail of thoughts. She sighed and rose to her feet. "Gaius, you better go to Gwen before she does something really stupid. Merlin and I can stay with Arthur. Is Leon still outside?"

"Yes" the healer confirmed. "Doubtlessly wishing he was blind and deaf as well as somewhere else entirely, but he wouldn't leave his post."

Morgana nodded and Gaius got ready to follow Guinivere when Merlin jumped to his feet and joined his old mentor. "Where do you think you're going?" Arthur's sister snapped angrily. "I need you here!"

To Merlin's horror, Gaius pushed him back, albeit gently. "I'd prefer to talk to Guinivere alone if you don't mind." Out he went without so much as one look back.

Before the warlock, being all of a dither, could recover Morgana grabbed his arm and dragged him with her into Arthur's bedchamber where she pushed him into the nearest chair. "Wait for me!"

An instant later he heard her talking to Leon. "Make sure that only your men stand guard here tonight. Neither Ravenclaw's nor my sister's escort are to enter this house. Understood? Good!"

Merlin winced when she came back and locked the door from the inside. "That's as much as I can do to keep this private" she said. "Let's hope it'll be enough."

"So it is true" Merlin said, his throat and mouth so dry that it hurt. "Arthur has tried to kill himself."

Instead of an answer, Morgana held up a little phial with a residue of green liquid in it. "Gaius is sure it was a 'sudden irrational act, brought about by too much pressure and the aftermath of physical trauma' but for all his fine words he was as shocked as anybody else."

Unable to cope with the really important questions right now, Merlin decided to busy himself with the unimportant ones. Sometimes that helped. "How did he come by the poison?"

"He's always taking it along, at least if he goes into a fight or battle. As do I. It's comforting to know that you're master of your own fate when the crunch comes. One of Uther's better ideas."

"It was your _father_ who gave you both a lethal poison to carry around?" Merlin's head swirled. How could he? How could a man do such a thing?

"Yes. Camelot has enemies and some of them would stop at nothing to take advantage, not even at torturing a boy of 14 years or a girl of seventeen. In fact my brother was barely ten when a rebellious Baron tried to snatch him; some years later our father came up with the 'painless exit' idea." Morgana seemed unruffled by what made Merlin want to puke.

"I guess Arthur asked Gaius for the potion in Doloreux" she went on. "Can't say I blame him, he must have thought that what his father had done to him had only been a pleasant prelude of what Morgause was going to do." She shrugged. "Gaius always has an antidote ready, ever since we first received our nice little glass toys. He forced it down Arthur's throat and he's sure it'll do the trick."

The warlock curled up in his chair, unknowingly making himself as small as possible. "If Gwen hadn't found him in time…."

"It wasn't her. _I_ found him, with the phial still in his hand. It was my stupidity that I did not hide it before I called for help." Morgana grinned joylessly. "I had come to berate him, to tell him that as long as our father lives none of us will have a moment of peace or safety. Obviously my little brother had found that out all by himself."

"Do you think that that was the reason? That he didn't want to make that decision?"

Morgana scrutinized Merlin thoroughly. "You think it was your fault" she stated. "You think it was that quarrel you had with Arthur earlier."

His cheeks burning red Merlin nodded. "If I hadn't blabbered out that his wrists most probably won't fully recover ..." he stopped himself, too embarrassed to go on.

Morgana snorted derisively. "Do you really think that someone who's spent his whole life with a sword in his hands needs you, of all the clumsy, God forsaken idiots in this world, to tell him that he's lost his fighting abilities?" She shook her head. "Arthur must have known that his wrists are severely weakened the moment he recapitulated the fight in the forest." With a sudden jerk of her head, she faced the still devastated warlock. "You can unwind. It had nothing to do with you. Besides, as likely as not, Arthur won't remember what happened when he comes to. The poison works like that."

"_It has everything to do with me_" Merlin wanted to scream. "_I must protect him, it's my destiny and I didn't have a clue when it really mattered_. _You found him, you saved him and I was useless. What if he does try again? Where will you be next time? Or I?_" But he kept silent. In whatever words he'd try to put this, it would sound utterly idiotic, the ramblings of a jealous child.

"What do you think he did it for?" he asked instead

Morgana brushed her hair out of her face. "Maybe Gaius is right and it was a momentary weakness that won't come back. But as I know my brother, I'd say he thinks he's worthless, now that his sword skills are not what they used to be." She chuckled angrily. "Uther's teachings again. Good isn't good enough, the Crown Prince of Camelot has to be _perfect_. Two enemies down and two others badly hurt in the first ten minutes and the only thing my brother knows is that in the past he has done much better."

Astonished by her embitterment, Merlin looked at her, but she ignored his big eyes.

"Besides, Arthur's grown up with the stories about Osric's ritual" she continued. "He must feel horribly humiliated by the brand mark on his chest; naturally that's why he did _not_ allow Gaius to remove it. To my brother this would be like cheating. Uther thought he deserved this horrible punishment and a part of Arthur thinks so, too. Our father always had that power over his son, to define the truth for him, even if it meant for Arthur to defy his own better judgement."

Morgana had begun pacing to and fro while she spoke. "That's why my sister told him that Uther has used magic to bring him in this world, killing Igraine in the process. Arthur should know what a liar his father is. Morgause wanted to drag him over to her side, to _our_ side, away from Uther. But for your intervention neither she nor I would've touched a hair on my brother's head and our accursed father was buried six feet under, where he belongs."

Taken aback by the sudden attack, Merlin forgot his meekness and guilty conscience. He jumped to his feet and defended himself heatedly. "It wouldn't have worked like that. Arthur wouldn't have forgiven Uther's death, not Morgause and surely not himself. It would've broken him."

"Even more than he's broken now?" she snapped, but then she stopped Merlin's reply with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, that's all in the past and best forgotten. If you're looking for a reason for Arthur to kill himself, think of his situation. He knows it's his duty to Camelot and to all of us, to sentence Uther to death. So he thinks it best to die first, that's all. If he's gone the only thing that stands between Uther's heart and _my_ blade is gone too. To Arthur killing Uther by taking his own life would be a perfect solution. Like doing the right thing and punishing himself for it at the same time."

Merlin swallowed painfully. Why the hell did that make perfect sense to him? Proud, strong, oversensitive, always pretending Arthur Pendragon. If she knew him _that_ well, he was like a fortress without battlements, open and vulnerable to her every attack. Thinking of her various attempts at capturing and murdering her brother, the warlock felt his throat constrict. "Since when are you such a sensitive caretaker of Arthur's wellbeing?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not a philanthropist. But I've come too far; we all have come way too far to now fall about my brother's misguided scruples. With Uther out of the way, Arthur will soon come back to his senses, you'll see. So either Morgause finds another solution during the next 24 hours or I will kill this bastard of a father with my own bare hands and to hell with our dear Prince's opinion of me!" She threw her head back, muttering something unintelligible to herself while she walked even faster from one wall to the other.

"_Liar!_" Merlin suddenly understood. "_You __**do**__ care what he thinks of you. Great Gods it's true, it's really true, you want him back, at any costs_." Absurdly, this insight didn't come as a relief but as a cause for more anger. "What I don't understand" the warlock snarled "is why you could once be his loving sister, then hell-bent on skinning him alive, only to come back to the role of the affectionate sibling, pffft, just like that." He waved his left hand for emphasis. "Is there anything real inside you, anything at all?"

"As real as your friendship was when you handed me the poison meant to kill me" she said loudly. "And since when are my feelings any concern of yours?"

"Since my best friend's life depends on them!"

"Ooooh, you're friends now. Last time I checked you were cleaning my brother's boots and chamber pot." She grinned viciously. "Oh he blushes. How sweet. The great sorcerer does not want to remember his humble origins."

"Last time _I_ checked Gaius and me had you two most illustrious ladies pinned to the ground and all you did was screaming like a spoilt child."

They both stood now, only inches apart; panting and circling each other like angry hens ready to pick on the competitor. On the one hand it was a ridiculous sight. On the other hand, the murderous energy that crackled between them was anything but.

Merlin felt it brush over his skin. Painful, yes. Threatening, a bit intimidating. He knew he'd defeat her in a fight, yes sure, he could defeat her anytime. Inside him his own magic rose to the challenge, stirring restlessly, waiting to lash out, to meet with hers, to feel it, melt with it, become one with it, like it had done in the forest when they had fought the Gaulish together. Glorious, deeply satisfying moments back then; she could destroy a mountain with her marvellous raw power and yet he had been in control, his whole being for once meeting an equal partner, not even with Freya he had felt…

Abruptly Merlin broke off eye contact and turned away, fighting to control his raging emotions. So much for defeating her. One can't defeat someone with whom one wants to roll on the floor, tearing, biting, snarling until not a shred of clothing is in the way of….…. Heavens above!

Morgana, absolutely oblivious of what she was doing to him, misread his movement for spite and distrust. "If it makes you happy, I'm not sure I understand it myself" she suddenly ranted at his back. "I only know when I saw Arthur, back in Devil's Claw, I…" now she turned away and for the first time since their conversation had begun she actually looked at her sleeping brother, dragging Merlin's furtive eyes to Arthur's limp form, too.

"Let's just say until this moment I had not really known what I was talking about when I said I wanted to see him dead." Morgana drew a deep breath

"What's that supposed to mean?" Merlin shifted uneasily when her hand brushed gently through Arthur's hair. A part of him wanted to drag her away from his helpless friend. Another part of him wished her to caress _his_ hair like that.

"You weren't there; you didn't see what this ritual had brought him to" Morgana answered, more softly now. "I had had no idea what a human body can suffer and yet be alive. He was a raw mass of mutilated flesh; I didn't know where to touch him. His hands, they were… he looked like a broken toy, not like a human being. I remembered how proud he had been when Uther knighted him, allowing him to wear the crest of Camelot and now the dragon was a burning curse on his skin."

She looked up, her fierce stare locking with Merlin's still utterly confused gaze. "By what Uther has done, he has _made_ him my brother. Arthur's mine now, and I know how to keep what's mine, come hell or high water! I will protect him by any means necessary, even from himself!"

While the warlock was trying to figure out whether this should encourage him or terrify him out of his wits on Arthur's behalf, she changed the subject abruptly. "By the way, this quarrel you had with Arthur, what was it about?"

Merlin blinked several times before he could follow her drift. He had no real idea why he should be obliged to answer her and yet he felt compelled to do just that. Maybe it was that peculiar combination of protectiveness towards her brother and an inquisitor's attitude. Merlin thought he knew how the condemned magicians of ancient times must have felt when they had to face a tribunal of High Masters and Priestesses for their crimes.

"Morgause had raised a complaint against me. Arthur was angry. He said he had other things on his mind than Morgause and Algernon quarrelling about me being the Druids' protector from undue claims of the Blessed Isle – well, the whole nonsense did nothing to improve Arthur's mood."

"Good heavens, not this Emrys talk all over again. Why quarrel about the damned sanctuary of the Old Religion _before_ it has been rebuilt?"

"My thoughts exactly" Merlin said with heartfelt conviction, happy with the more neutral terrain their conversation was venturing to. "However, your sister thought it necessary to bring her foot down prophylactically, so to speak. Obviously she told Arthur that if he can't control me, she would and I wouldn't much like that."

"Sounds like my sister, to tell that to a man who's just been snatched from the jaws of death, only because a healer said that sometime in the future he'd make a full recovery." Morgana shook her head but she audibly was fighting laughter and for an instant her threatening stance was gone.

"She means much to you, doesn't she?" Merlin dared to sneak up a bit closer on a subject that fascinated him. "Was that why you abandoned us...Camelot I mean? Was it all for Morgause and her dream to rebuild the Isle of the Blessed?"

"I'm not obliged to vindicate myself to you" she said haughtily, her superior attitude back like a piece of armour she could shed or take on at will. "You can as well keep your big mouth shut until my brother wakes up. Arthur may enjoy your silly ramblings but I do not."

"Then why am I here? You said to Gaius you needed me here. What for? I'm not so very decorative; you do not need me to adorn the room."

Without knowing it Morgana fumbled her throat, where the necklace had been. "Don't give yourself airs, you're an idiot, if it weren't for my brother I'd never stay in the same room with you!"

"Fine" Merlin yelled exasperatedly. "That's one thing that can be helped."

He marched towards the door and reached out for the key when her voice stopped him short. "Stay!"

"What?"

"Back in the forest. Yesterday. When we fought together…..something happened."

"_Heaven please send a lightning to crush me, now_" the young warlock thought. "_Send it now._"

"Was that….normal? If sorcerers fight together, join their magic…. Does it always feel like that?"

"_I'm done for. I'm finished. So much for a warlock born of legend. HA_! _My knees are made of jelly and the rest is out of service anyhow_."

"When Morgause tried to teach me how to use my magic it always felt… wrong. I always thought I'm at fault somehow, that what I did wasn't right but she never explained. One day she said she wouldn't teach me any more, that it was too dangerous but she didn't say why."

Morgana approached him from behind. Without looking at her he knew that her hand was coming up, that she was going to touch him, gently, ever so warm and gently and it would make him….

Morgana raised her fist and pushed him between the shoulder blades, hard. "Don't get ideas, its only that they all talk that much about your special abilities and Morgause hasn't got the time, so I thought you'd teach me a few of your tricks. After all, we're allies now and you owe me."

Merlin, still facing the door, closed his eyes briefly. "_Your futures are intertwined from now on. She is the darkness to your light. Great! Just great! If you consider __**that **__ample warning, Khilgharrah you can as well keep your big snout shut to all eternity_!"

He turned, looked at her face. She tried to hide her anxiety and insecurity behind a mask of arrogance and superciliousness. She was very good at that. But not good enough. She was guessing. And she was coming closer to the truth. The day she found out about her special magic would be a very black day.

Merlin had felt it, felt it in every shred of his being that something was wrong with her magic. He did not know what she was, he had no words for her, but she wasn't like him, not a bit. And yet she felt so utterly wonderful. Like a giant, destructive beast that had suddenly, for no obvious reason, chosen to snuggle into his hand, licking his face where it should have bitten it off, as was its nature. Would it still love him or murder him next time their magic came together – who could know? Teaching her would be a dance with death itself, every single time, not only for him but also for everyone else.

Why did nature create magic like hers? But then, why did nature create earthquakes, floods and firestorms?

"_That's what she is, a force of nature. They say that there's a time to build and a time to destroy. I should not teach her. I'd regret it. I should not teach her. I should not do it._"

She quickly suppressed a smile when he nodded tentatively. "Sure, why not? Naturally you'll never be able to compete with me, but a few tricks can't harm."

It earned him another hard push, against his chest this time, and an angry frown. "Idiot!"

"You sound like your brother."

Suddenly she became all serious again. Her eyes lost the cold stare that made them look so very much like Uther's and they widened a bit. "No more poison for any of us. Promise me, Merlin. Not for my brother. Not for me."

He tried his usual lopsided grin. It didn't really come up but got lost somewhere on the way. "I won't try anything if you don't." Furtively he stretched out his hand to her. "So we're friends again?"

"No, of course not!" She recoiled a bit.

"Partners, then?"

The corners of her mouth came up ever so lightly before her hand took his and shook it. "Partners" she said. "Perhaps."

The rest of the night was a mystery to Merlin's memory and it would always remain so. He vaguely remembered that Gaius had come back a while later because Arthur began to throw up which the healer, heaven knew why, thought to be a very good sign.

As always, Gaius was right, for in the morning the Prince was not only bright awake, completely oblivious of what he had done and all too ready to believe Gaius' fairy tale of a sudden relapse because of a hidden cranial trauma – whatever that was – but also ravenous with hunger.

Everyone sighed with relief and at least for this morning the besiegers' camp was singing and humming with good mood and hope for the future. Armand and Morgause were making plans, albeit not for her sister and a certain warlock because Morgana had been wise enough to keep her new training schemes to herself.

Gaius was burying himself in his bedcovers to catch some sleep before the next catastrophe would jump on them from behind, as it undoubtedly would.

Leon and some of the others went for a ride. They called it exercise; Arthur called it something else when he heard of it. "Bunch of deserters" or something similar. But he laughed while saying it.

True enough, Merlin remembered coming across Gwen's door sometime during the night. She had still been crying, talking to Lancelot in fast, jerky sentences while he was muttering soothingly into her ears. Briefly Merlin had wondered why she should seek comfort in Lancelot's arms instead with her brother, who was nowhere to be seen.

But for once, just once in his life, Merlin was so very full of his own emotions that he lost his empathy.

Life was too wonderful to feel sorry. Arthur would be well. Morgana was well. All was so very well and things would even get better tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.

There was no doubt possible that Merlin was in love. Utterly, heedlessly, crazily, boundlessly in love.

In love with a potential devil.

Who the hell cared?


	26. Just causes rarely cause much justice

**26. Just causes rarely cause much justice**

"So" Morgause said. Velvety, soft, with an almost invisible smile. She rarely shouted, raising her voice was not her habit; she rather used it as an expert's knife, and it always cut deep. "You've finally come."

An uncharacteristically nervous Arthur avoided her gaze and blushed a bit. "I thought I owe you…. an explanation."

"I believe you owe us all much more than that. In fact you owe a great many people some allegiance, some reliability and a minimum of respect and consideration. Obviously Your Highness does not share my view."

"Hang on a minute, Morgause. You've no right…." Arthur's temper flared up. The more so as he knew her accusations to be justified.

"It was _you_ who had no right, Arthur Pendragon. I will not pretend I'm concerned for your wife, child, friends or Camelot's people. But Morgana, Armand, the Druids, even your precious Merlin and Gaius, they're magicians which makes them my concern, for I'm their leader, like it or not. We all gambled our whole future on you letting us rebuild our homestead in Camelot. We relied on you and you've let us down!"

Arthur winced under her cold wrath.

The Gods be praised that Ravenclaw, Leon and the other knights pretended to have been blind and deaf during that particular night. Morgana, most happily falling back into the habits of an older sister, had settled down for a resounding slap as soon as he had had grasped what he had done. Talking to Gaius, Merlin and Guinivere had been purgatory for a contrite princely culprit. However, talking to Morgause would foreseeably be even worse.

So Arthur had postponed that conversation for almost a week. Until now. "I take it I can omit the preliminaries and go in medias res at once" he said somewhat sheepishly. "As Morgana has obviously enlightened you as to the cause of my …... sudden relapse a few days ago."

"As much as she has apparently enlightened _you_" Morgause replied. "The day after your foolish act Your Highness was in the most happy state of total oblivion while everybody else was out of their wits with worry and grief."

"Actually Merlin and Gaius told me what monkey business I had been getting up to. Well, I think Gaius was the driving force behind it, Merlin was mostly trying to soften the blow." Half way up, Arthur's grin met with an accident and became a constrained grimace instead.

He should have known better than to stir up _that_ particular nest of hornets. To say it in softer words, Merlin's situation was somewhat complex (Gaius' phrasing) if not plain barmy (Gwaine's phrasing).

As having the peasant warlock around was as pesky as it was inevitable, Morgause had been forced to make up her mind on how to deal with him. After a while of pondering and deliberating she had decided that, humble origin or not, Merlin's powers were what counted most in the future hierarchy of the Old Religion she would rebuild; and, with her usual vigour, she had made that known.

The reactions had been….. diverse, to put it mildly.

Morgana had snorted and thought no more of it.

Gaius, by his experience with the old Blessed Isle a vigilant observer of the natural rivalries in the magic community, was amused by the High Priestess' adjusting to one of the most important axioms of politics – how to abandon out-dated principles. Out of the kindness of his heart, he called it 'prejudices' instead. For Merlin's and for Arthur's sake he was more than glad that Morgause was obviously able not only to postpone, but to actually forgive and forget old enmities.

As for the rest of Morgause's 'community', Armand was the only one who readily accepted the Most Revered Lady's change of heart towards Merlin; mostly because the High Master was profoundly grateful that the young warlock had kept the identity of the sorcerer who had abducted him a perfect secret, especially from his Prince.

All the other magicians did _not_ appreciate Morgause's newly found acceptance of the once despised serving boy and would-be assassin of her sister. There were many differences between Morgause's followers and your usual worldly courtier but one thing they had in common: They did not take kindly to competition.

And Algernon…. Oh dear. To say that the Druid leader was not very amused by what to him was the High Priestess' blunt attempt at pinching his precious Emrys was the euphemism of the year.

Unfortunately, and much to Morgause's chagrin, Merlin himself couldn't have cared less. The community he felt himself a part of consisted of royalty, born or related by marriage, and an old healer, together with a bunch of more or less aristocratic knights. So what, that he was the only peasant in the lot and, besides Gaius, the only magician. The caste-system of magic-havers and non magicians and the strict hierarchy among the sorcerers the Blessed Isle had once stood for was nothing but smoke and mirrors to him and so he said, openly, laughingly and, alas, very, _very_ inconsiderately at every possible – and some rather impossible - opportunities.

Against that background, Arthur's last remark, meant to lighten the mood somewhat, was doomed to achieve exactly the opposite. "Doesn't the young idiot always throw himself between you and harm's way" Morgause snorted angrily. "The Great Mother may know what he sees in you. If I think that this great talent is caught in a foolish peasant who's wasted years on washing your socks..." She waved her hand at the Prince contemptuously.

Remembering only now that Merlin, his stubborn resistance to accept the High Priestess' authority as well as Algernon's constant retelling of the Druids' Emrys-legends were a more than sore spot with Morgause, Arthur decided to let that remark go unchallenged. Anyhow, best get this over with as fast as possible.

"Are you interested in hearing my apology at all or shall I go now?" The Prince did his very best to sound crestfallen and remorseful, which wasn't very difficult. After all he _did_ feel like an idiot right now.

"Let's hear it then" she said sternly.

Arthur raised his hands in an age-old gesture of surrender, indicating that what he was about to say was indeed meant as an apology, not as an excuse for what he had done. "You know I don't remember taking the poison. But I do remember my reasons."

He swallowed hard before he continued "I thought it would untie your hands to deal with Uther as you see fit. Morgana's claim to the throne is undeniable as such, only my claim is superior to hers, as I was born inside wedlock by the rightful Queen. But I'm an outcast now by law, my accession to the throne would always be questionable. On the other hand, once the King _and_ I were gone, the Barons would have no other choice but to crown my sister, if they wanted to avoid a civil war. From what I've seen of Morgana over these last months I think she can become a fine ruler. Two years ago she felt constantly threatened, which explains her senseless cruelty perfectly. She is her father's daughter after all. But as your sister, a magician and a Pendragon Princess in her own right, she could bring about the reconciliation of Camelot's Crown with the Blessed Isle better than anyone. This would guarantee the peace between Camelot and the magicians I tried to achieve when I first negotiated with Algernon."

He had droned that out quickly and devoid of feeling. Now he inhaled deeply and gazed furtively at Morgause's face while he shrugged as callously as he could manage. "You see, in a way my early demise would have been in everybody's best interest."

"_I don't believe it_" Morgause thought, taken aback and yet touched against her will. "_He's completely serious. Damned idiot. And here I was, thinking that I could leave him __and Morgana __out of my sight as soon as they both have been crowned._" She cocked a brow ironically. "Is that so" she said dryly. "In _your_ best interest too?"

Arthur shrugged again and looked to his feet. "Yes. Why not?" He felt he hadn't explained it properly and searched for diplomatic words when all of a sudden he felt the overwhelming urge to just blurt it out. "Blast it, I know he has to die but I'm too much of a coward to do it. To go on living as a complete failure is not a very tempting perspective." His cheeks were burning. He hadn't really planned to go _that_ far in his confessions.

Morgause shook her head disbelievingly. "Didn't it occur to you that you would've been missed? I know it's hard to believe but some people think you're likable."

"Morgana loves Margaly. I didn't believe it at first but now...Besides, I'm sure I'm not the only one who can take care of Guinivere, I mean she could easily...oh, damn, forget it, it's none of your damned business any road."

Arthur flinched when he felt Morgause's hand on his shoulder. "You're right, your feelings should be yours alone" she said. "But as you apparently have lost perspective, let me tell you that you're underrating your importance. No, please, be quiet. Hear me out."

Now it was her turn to search for the right words. "I've told you before, Morgana needs you. More than you know."

For a fleeting moment Morgause wanted to return trust with trust, wanted to tell Arthur everything about the nature of Morgana's magic. But in the end her fear for her sister's safety was stronger. And she very much doubted that the Prince of Camelot could be convinced by her citing old prophecies from the books of ancient wisdom. No, for her stepbrother – she still had trouble accepting that he was that – it had to be politics; the equally ancient mathematics and equations of power, trust and legitimacy would do the trick much better than any spiritual lecture.

"Arthur, I love my sister. She's all I have left after your father destroyed the Blessed Isle and with it each and everyone who's ever been close to me. But as much as I love her not even I can deny that she can be...somewhat rash at times. I can hardly advise her on Camelot politics and the balance of power in your realm. But I'm pretty sure she'll listen to you."

Morgause cleared her throat nervously. "I know what this thing on your chest does to you. If I were you, I'd rather jump into a fire pit than enter Camelot with everyone knowing about this mark on my skin. Uther's made you an outcast in the eyes of many people who've once licked your boots." She drew a deep breath "And yet the Barons and notables would not accept Morgana on the throne without you. Armand says that after twenty years of Uther's indoctrination many people in Camelot are thoroughly terrified by magic. Morgana is known as my sister and as a magician. Without you publicly condoning her accession she'd not stand a chance."

The High Priestess faced Arthur fully. "I therefore fear Your Highness cannot be allowed to leave the battlefield by the back door." She grinned wolfishly and to her satisfaction he winced a bit. "Not yet, anyway."

"I trust you'll give me ample warning when you think my time has come" Arthur replied and it was only partly in jest.

"So that the gallant Prince can fall on his own sword instead of being slain from behind?"

"Something of the kind."

"I should have known Uther had you stuffed with this ancient honour nonsense. I for one think the Romans talked a lot about honour but when they'd finished talking they went back to being pragmatic politicians."

"I do not know what the Romans did. But I do know what the knight's code means to me. And to my men."

She sobered at once. "That's another reason why you're needed. You are the knights' commander; you are the accepted military leader, not Ravenclaw, not Bodmin or any of the others. Leon and his bunch and the remaining Camelot soldiers – they've already shown that their loyalty lies with you alone."

"All right, all right, I came here to say that I'll be a good boy from now on and that I'm not going to swallow anything poisonous any time soon. At least not voluntarily. There's no need to list all my indispensable virtues." Arthur stiffened under her hand. Gods, this was so very embarrassing.

"On the contrary" Morgause replied, ignoring his discomfort. "I think there's every need to do just that, time and again. It hasn't done you any good that your father has always listed your deficiencies. If he had encouraged you more often instead of spurring you, you'd not cast yourself away so easily."

Arthur blushed again, horribly abashed. He _hated_ it when Morgause, of all people, became emotional towards him. It always left him at a complete loss at how to react. Where were the happy times when they had been mortal enemies, intent on killing each other on first sight? "I'm off now" he said, and made haste to leave, only to find the tent's flap slapping his face when it came down with a vengeance.

"You stay exactly where you are, until I'm finished with you" she said angrily.

"Let me out. At once. How dare you" he snarled equally enraged, and his spirits rose immediately. He could deal with _that _tone of voice much better.

"Haven't you forgotten something? There is still the minor issue of your father to be dealt with!"

Morgause sighed when she saw his shoulders fall. Would he never learn? For once in her life she was grateful that she'd hardly known her own father. She could do without a person in her life with such power over her.

"Give me a day or two" Arthur muttered softly. He struggled with himself whether to say something more. "It's not...an easy decision" he finally pressed out, hating her, Morgana, Camelot, earth, heaven, each and everyone, but most of all himself. He wished so desperately to hate Uther, but he knew that he never really would, in spite of all what had happened. He had tried, again and again, to hate his father but the pure, all consuming emotion of the time when Morgause had first told him about the circumstances of his birth did not come back, however hard he tried to recall it.

Something inside Arthur Pendragon had changed. Of course, he did not call it 'changed', he called it 'broken', and his weakened wrists and hampered swordsmanship were only part of it. He knew that he had suffered unjustly, that he was innocent of the crimes his father had accused him of. But there was this little boy inside him who still could not believe that his adored father could be _that_ wrong. As a consequence, the once indestructible feeling that Arthur Pendragon was right, that he was on the good side, on the side that would always be justified, was gone. Life without this surety was much harder. Somehow this particular hardship was more painful than every physical torment.

Morgause sensed a bit of his inner struggle, although she was too sure of herself and her own cause to really comprehend it. "Much the better that there's no need to make this decision" she said and he had the unpleasant feeling that she had been reading his mind.

"Matilda has sent a messenger" she continued. "Your Aunt offers to leave Camelot for good. Apparently her son is badly hurt. In exchange for a free passage she is willing to give up all rights to the throne to you and Morgana, for herself and her son. And she's willing to take her brother with her to the Auvergne, should you so wish."

Arthur laughed, loud and acrimoniously. "Without her and my precious cousin I'd never seen the inside of Devil's Claw, let alone Osric's ritual. Besides, for all I know she's been trying to poison her brother for months;"

"What do you care? For all _I_ know your father invited her in the first place. Let him fend for himself now. At least the matter is finally off your hands."

"But don't you see? As soon as my cousin has recovered, she'll try to revive his claim to the throne, using Uther as a figurehead."

"Fine, that'll keep her from poisoning him then. Anyway she's welcome to try sneaking her way back in. I'd much rather face her attempts from inside the citadel, with Camelot's army - and you - at Morgana's side for a change. Is that so hard to understand?"

"You do not want this, Morgause. You and all the others want the case of Uther Pendragon to be closed, so that they can move on with their lives. Nobody will thank you for being merciful."

"Nobody but you. Admit it, Arthur. It's true, we need him dead, but we need you alive even more. And I'm pretty sure we cannot have both."

The Prince combed all ten fingers through his hair. "We will regret this. Somehow, someday Uther will make us pay if he survives." He sounded doubtful, musing and Morgause knew that for all his better judgement he was already toying with the idea of accepting Matilda's offer.

There was nothing for it. Apparently even Arthur Pendragon had his limits of endurance and while it was sure as hell that Uther's survival would put his son and everybody around him in mortal danger, it was also dead certain that this same son would not survive a death sentence for his father.

"It's settled" Morgause said resolutely. "Uther will go with Matilda and good riddance. Three days from now your dear family will leave Camelot for Gaul and there's an end to it."

With bated breath she waited for his reaction, half fearing a horrible tantrum, half expecting him to run out to hide his embarrassing relief.

Instead he just nodded. "Thank you, Morgause. I won't forget what you did for me today. I know it's wrong, but… thanks anyway. I've been obliged to you before for bringing me out of Devil's Claw. I know Uther would've kept me in a cage for the rest of my life; I know I'm an idiot but only today you've made me your friend."

"You're welcome" she said a bit hoarsely. "Really, you are. But this your foolish warlock-servant is right in calling you a dollop-head. If I think of all the looking after you'll need, I feel queasy."

"So much the better that Merlin and you can take turns. Would the Most Revered Lady think it possible to let me out now?"

When he had left, she smiled; still somewhat in awe. "If you'd any idea of what you were stupid enough to throw away, Uther Pendragon, you'd slit your own throat in remorse. And we all would be so much happier."

She was still a bit dumbfounded when, a while later, Armand peeped furtively into the tent. "My Lady? How did it go?"

"I've told him that I'd accept Matilda's offer in his name."

"And?"

"He was most pleased."

"Our dear Prince is too noble for this evil world sometimes."

"Luckily he has us evil ones to compensate for that" Morgause stated flatly.

Armand entered her quarters fully now. "He's growing on you."

"The Great Mother have mercy on me, he is."

"Just as well. You already have a sister in common and soon enough it will be a realm and a future."

"Aren't you pleased, High Master Morgwyn? After all, your plan works a treat."

"My plan was to see the siblings on the throne and Uther buried at least three fathoms deep in an unnamed grave but we cannot always have all we want. As it is I'd rather settle for half a success than for none at all."

"I wonder" Morgause said slowly, thoughtfully. "Now that we're coming close to achieving our goal I wonder what will be the pound of flesh you're going to claim for a reward in the end."

Armand smirked and the mask of a spoilt and puffed-up old aristocrat fell off like too tight a coat, revealing the real man behind the cover. "I'll think of something adequate. We cannot spill all the beans prematurely. Which reminds me. I've asked Gaius to have an eye on our young royal friend, just in case that Arthur would be foolish enough to try and confront Uther himself. But Morgana has been eavesdropping outside and I take it that she insists on having the pleasure of informing our beloved King about his Gaulish future in so warm and comfy a family circle."

"Good heavens, no!" Morgause was already out when Armand closed his mouth. "I can see how it would be stressful to be a High Priestess of a bunch of self-pompous sorcerers _and_ a mother-hen of a bunch of haywire royalty with a death-wish" he muttered a bit amused. "Even the great Emrys usually settles down for _one_ of those jobs at a time."

The High Priestess came too late to prevent her sister from seeing her father; Morgana had virtually flown to Uther's quarters the moment she had heard her brother consent to Matilda's suggestion.

Uther rose when she entered and straightened himself as far as the iron restraints on his arms and ankles would let him. "What do you want?" He was as white as chalk and it was not from his recently overcome injury alone. Reflexively, he tried to look around her, still assuming against all odds that she'd not come alone but with her brother.

"Don't get your hopes up, we'd never let him come near you again." Morgana knew full well what her father was thinking.

"It's good to see that you're still afraid of me."

"Think again, old man. You're nothing but a spent force, an irritant that will soon be dealt with."

"Do you want me to believe that my son has consented to me being executed? He'd never do that."

Morgana felt her anger flare up, for once not for herself but suffering vicariously with her brother. "Had it been me in Devil's Claw, had your knife cut into _my_ throat a few days ago, you'd be burning on the pyre for it, right now" she spat. "But you're right; Arthur has saved your worthless hide one last time."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll be taken to the coast together with your bitch of a sister and her whelp. I'm happy to tell you that you'll spent the rest of your life in the Auvergne with them. Should you ever try coming back to Albion, it'll be the death of you and not even my brother will be able to save you."

Uther's thoughts stumbled about each other in his mind. This was a trick, it had to be. She was surely trying to bait him into some scheme of hers. "I don't believe you. You'd never let me go willingly."

"It's not willingly, I assure you. Had it not been for Arthur being foolish enough to harm himself, neither I nor Morgause would've spared you."

Morgana flinched, not from fear but from sheer disgust when Uther came for her, stopped short by his chains only one step away from her. "What have you done to him, you heartless bitch? Where is he? Where is my son?"

Fascinated in spite of her resentment she stared at his widened, anxious eyes. To call his feelings for his son an unsolvable mystery was not doing justice to what she was experiencing. "You'd really murder him before you'd let him out of your reach, wouldn't you?" Morgana said softly, awkwardly. "I didn't want to believe it. Do you even know that he almost died when you took him hostage last week in the forest? He was bleeding to death while you were hurting him even more."

Uther swallowed painfully, suddenly unsure of what to think. "Nonsense" he said at last. "He was pretending, trying to lull me into a false sense of security. If he'd really been hurt that badly he'd have…."

"What? Screamed? Begged for his life? Uther, he did scream with pain and you pressed your knife to his throat to silence him."

"As far as I remember you never fell for my ruse."

"Are you so sure it was a ruse, _father_? For I am not sure, not anymore." Morgana's voice trembled, almost choked with emotions and suddenly she _had_ to know, had to know beyond all doubt if or if not her father was prepared to see his own son die. "Do you remember the little glass phials you've given to Arthur and me when we were youngsters. The ones with the poison. Lethal, painless, fast. Don't you remember?"

"What of them? I had Arthur's phial taken from him when I had him arrested in Devil's Claw." Uther started violently. "Did you give it back to him?"

"I don't know who gave it back to him" she said, instinctively keeping Gaius out of this. "But somehow he got it back. And he used it, the night after we'd captured you. He knew everyone would demand your execution and he couldn't live with it."

Uther grinned, apparently relieved. "Now I know you're lying. Only yesterday I've seen him, briefly, among the tents, with a child on his arms. Bright eyed and bushy tailed he looked. So much for your wild stories of deadly injuries and suicide."

"The child is Margaly. _His_ child. Your granddaughter."

"As if she were. Her mother herself told me that she was carrying somebody else's brat." Uther regained his confidence with every word he said. This was so transparent, really, he'd have expected so much more from his daughter. "I'll not be fooled by your lies into believing that I've done Arthur an injustice. If my son is hurt, it's because of your machinations, yours and that bunch of filthy sorcerers' that follow you." He frowned when he met her blank stare. "So I'll ask you again. What have you done to him?"

"What I should've done from the very start. Held his head when he heaved his guts up from all the vileness you'd stuffed him with."

Uther laughed and shook his head. "Really, Morgana. Spare me the trashy novel. That's too cheap, even for you."

Morgana could not know that his guts were twisting and his hands were trembling. Behind that derisive façade, Uther was caught in a nightmare, the worst nightmare of all, the one in which he had lost everything that had ever been important to him.

He could not, and would not, accept that.

He had tried so hard to keep it all together, his crown, his people, and most of all, his children. But there had come a time when he had had to cut his losses. He had lost Morgana, but he could still keep his son. When it was no longer possible to keep Arthur as his successor, the father had used all his powers to keep his boy alive and by his side, even though it meant he had to keep Arthur hidden, or far away in Gaul, for a while. Just a while. Not for long. Never for long.

Being a King, he had to take the people's opinion of him into consideration. Being a King, he could not ignore that his son had committed high treason. But naturally it had all been a ruse, the captivity in Devil's Claw, the ritual, the threat to cut his child's throat. As a father, he hadn't meant it. Not really. Was that so hard to understand? Surely Arthur would understand in the end. If only he'd find an opportunity to talk to his son, enough time to explain things to him, Arthur would understand; he had to understand that his father had meant well…

At the same time Morgana felt a freezing cold crawl up her body. It started at her feet and hands, travelled upwards with her blood, made her stomach wanting to retch up and when it reached her heart, it hurt terribly.

She had a monster for a father. Gorlois' wife Viviane had committed adultery with an unnatural beast and now her daughter's body was made of this beast's flesh and blood. Small wonder that no one had ever really liked Morgana, that even her sister had turned away in disgust, refusing to teach her more about her magic. Small wonder that Morgana Pendragon had never really belonged, nowhere. Her very existence was tainted by being Uther Pendragon's daughter. She was soiled, marked out by that, to all eternity.

"You're fooling yourself if you think you can keep me away from my son or from anything else that's mine" Uther now said. "I swear to you I will come back and I will …."

Morgana unsheathed her blade; her eyes flashed golden and he fell back, gasping. In an instant her hand was in his hair, jerking his head back, her sword point was at his heart. "No you will not" she hissed. "You'll never haunt me or mine again. I won't allow it."

Uther forgot to breathe. Images, memories flashed through his mind; Viviane, Gorlois, ugly suspicions slowly but surely undermining a friendship. Morgana as a child, playing with her brother. Arthur's voice, slightly trembling; audibly scared but trying to sound brave and merciless. "_Father, look. I've caught a rabbit. I did it all by myself. I shot it and then I had to use my knife and cut its throat_." Uther's own voice in reply. "_Well done, my son. Your first kill. We will have a celebration tonight_." Wide blue eyes, gleaming with tears, furiously blinking them back. A small, soft childish paw, sneaking into the father's hand. "_Father, does a rabbit hurt when it dies?_"

"_Funny_" Uther thought "_I can't remember what I answered. Funny what one remembers wh__en__ one's going to die_."

"Don't, Morgana. He's not worth giving up all you've got. He never was."

"Leave me alone, Gwen. That's none of your business."

"He's killed my father, he's almost murdered my husband and he's my child's grandfather. Doesn't that make him my concern?"

Uncomprehending, Uther saw a dark skinned hand softly but determinedly take the blade off Morgana's hand and pull his daughter away from him, out of his reach.

"Listen to me, Morgana. You will _not_ allow him to drag you down to him, not again. Four days from now, he'll be gone and you and Arthur will take your rightful place in Camelot. A year from now he'll be forgotten. Come out now!"

Once outside, Morgana pulled free from Guinivere's grip, muttered something unintelligible under her breath and ran away without another word.

Morgause looked after her sister and let go of a breath she had not known she had been holding. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"When Arthur came to you, I went here, to see if he might come" Gwen replied "I thought Arthur might try….…oh, never mind. I saw Morgana coming and…." She met Morgause's gaze "she deserves better than to fall for Uther's manipulations again. That's all." They both flinched when Uther roared something abusive inside the tent.

"The sooner he's gone the better" Morgause said, ordering two of her guards to come to the tent with an imperative gesture of her hand.

Gwen shrugged and turned back towards her own quarters. "If I were you I kept an eye on your sister. Sometimes she doesn't know what's good for her."

"Tell me something I don't know" Morgause muttered, then she pulled herself together. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Guinivere. So today is as good a day as any to say that I'm sorry. For all the harm I did to you in the past. I'm sorry." That said, the High Priestess nodded curtly and made haste to get away.

"Don't thank me too early" Gwen whispered. She heard Uther's voice once more, swearing, and she shuddered.

She still had the same thought nagging away at her when she slipped into her bed that night. Arthur was pleasantly surprised when he felt her snuggling up to him. He turned and took her into his arms, rubbing his nose against the soft skin of her neck enthusiastically. "You're back."

"Obviously" she said.

"Are you still mad at me?"

Gwen was silent for a while. "A little" she finally said.

"I'm sorry" he muttered. "It was an idiotic thing to do. It's just... I thought...With Lance being around, I thought..."

"For the Gods' sake, stop it" she yelled at the top of her voice. She jumped out of the bed and stopped only by the window, grabbing the sill for support, fighting for calm.

"Arthur, I love you" she said after a while, when he had come to her and took her by the shoulders from behind. "You must never doubt that. There's no denying that I have feelings for Lance, too, but it's not the same. And if you ever...ever again should try walking out on me because Lance will be there to take care of me, if you ever do that to me again, I will..." she darted around, involuntarily knocking her head against his nose. "Arthur, don't harm yourself again, not for Lance, not for me and especially not for that worthless scum your father, please. It's you I want, whom I've always wanted. Lance is... a dream, a refuge for my thoughts when things get difficult, nothing more. And things are always difficult with you."

"I'm just that kind of guy" he said, rubbing his aching nose, smiling impishly. "I grew up with Morgana, I had Merlin for a servant and twice a changeling for a bride, my flaws are not my fault."

"Speaking of your former brides, dear husband..." she growled.

"I felt nothing for them. Really, I did not. I swear I didn't. Gwen...? Guinivere, stop it...no. Stop it, you insolent woman."

Afterwards they needed a while to sort out their bedding and to find a comfortable position on their improvised bunk. "I love you so very much" Arthur murmured, already half asleep. "I couldn't live without you and Margaly."

"Don't say that" she whispered back, but his regular breathing told her that he didn't hear her any more.

She lay awake for hours. She fought the remorse she felt for what she had done. Had it been for her alone, Uther would be dead now. She and Margaly would be safe.

But undoubtedly Arthur would have suffered severely. The way he'd suffer if he knew where and how she had spent those first two nights after he had tried to kill himself.

For all his constant talking, hinting at the subject, teasing her with it, she knew for a fact that he didn't really believe in a relationship between her and Lancelot. If he did, she'd lose him, forever. He wouldn't share, in that he was his father's son.

"I love you, you royal idiot" she whispered hopelessly, suddenly knowing beyond the slightest doubt that saving Uther's life today had been a terrible mistake.

Most of all she despised herself for the reason behind saving her father-in-law.

She had done it, not for her husband, not even for Morgana, but so that Arthur would be relaxed, happy and content when she came to him. So that she could sleep with her husband in this night of all nights.

If Lancelot had fathered a child in these two nights she had spent with him, Arthur would never know.


	27. Fashionable Intermezzo

**27. Fashionable Intermezzo**

"Blast this weather" Jason, the butcher's apprentice shook himself like a dog emerging from a puddle. The rain splashed from his clothes, showering all those around him with a generous amount of cold wetness.

The guests in the tavern "The Crooked Captain" bellowed in protest while they fled from the unwelcome bath as fast as possible. Was it not enough that they had mostly water in their mugs to wet their throats instead of mead or beer – oh happy times in which Minnie, the landlady, had been able to lay her hands on a cask of either any time she wanted – had the blasted liquid now to wet them from the outside as well?

"The plague on you, Jas' Turner" Minnie roared in proper wrath. "Bad enough your old sire apprenticed ya to t'butcher for ya clumsy hands being not fit for the wood. Must ya behave like one who don't know nothing of behaving properly 'round decent people neither?"

Such insulted, and feeling the others' animosity towards him, Jason took the bull by the horns. "Shut ya big mouth, Minnie. No use biting _my_ head off about decency." Assessing the mood in the room he looked around. "Not if your _sailor's_ head has come off. Not that it'll do 'im any harm. The old hunch-back lost his head years ago when he was fool enough to marry ya. Only found it again when 'e made ya a Captain's widow."

Two or three people chuckled, but the tavern's regulars knew better and kept their heads down. They all knew the true story of how the landlady's husband, a ship's cook, had eloped with Minnie's young, recently widowed sister-in-law roughly five months ago, taking his wife's life-time savings with him, together with the better part of her otherwise indomitable spirit and self-esteem.

So what? John Sailor's wife was still a fighter.

The inn had been closed for three weeks. Until one fine day Minnie had come out, had given the old tavern a most thorough scrubbing and cleaning and had hanged a new inn sign from the outside wall; a wooden image of her beloved John, in all the finery of a Sea-Captain. Thus the old 'Crooked Man' had become the 'Crooked Captain'. Since that day, Minnie had told the story of her gallant Captain John, how he had defended his ship against a bunch of ruthless enemies until he died with his beloved wife's name on his lips, so many times that by now she believed every word of it as if it was a sacred truth.

Nobody in his right mind – and right heart – would ever remind her of the real circumstances of her 'widowhood'. It wasn't only that her regulars were very fond of her. Some things could make Minnie angry. Angry enough to bar the wretched evil-doer's access to her premises, and who would be fool enough to rob himself of the finest ale in all of Camelot?

Talking of ale and mead...

"Must have been a year by now" the older man by the fire place said into the silence that ensued after Jason had belatedly realized that he had put his foot in his mouth. "A year since we all were here to talk about Prince Arthur and his alleged abduction by the Druids" the old stone mason continued miserably. "A case of your finest I said I'd broach for all of us at my expense when the boy came back safely. '_I don't trust the King any more_', I said. '_I'd be with the Prince any day_', I said. Now what is one to think?"

"That Uther has fooled us all, what else? Some men are like that." Minnie remembered her former unconditional trust in her King and the mug she had been cleaning broke into pieces. Trust. Yeah, sure she'd ever trust any man again. not in this life and not in any other.

"Still ol' Uther may have outsmarted himself this time" Jason replied. "That's what I came to tell ya. I've talked to my friend in the citadel an' he said there's a deal under way. Uther's been captured by Ravenclaw an' our dear Countess is packing up. Tomorrow we'll finally see the last of the darn Gaulish." Triumphantly he looked around for praise. "Honestly. That's the end of it. Farewell to Uther, Arthur and his sister are to rule in the citadel from now on."

"Don't be foolish, Jas" the mason cut in. "I have it from my neighbour's son who's in the Royal Guard that Uther had Osric's ritual performed on the Prince, in full."

Minnie shuddered silently. "_If I'd had a little 'un_" she thought longingly. "_Imagine, a man doing that 'orrible thing to 'is very own child_." The mere thought made her heart ache.

"Yeah and tell me something I don't know" Jason meanwhile sneered. "I'm fed up with you repeating this ritual stuff again and again. Who gives a damn if the man has the dragon on his coat or on his chest? The besiegers' store tents are overflowing with provisions, ev'ry big estate of the realm is at their beck an' call while the citadel is starving, much as we are. If the Countess wants to save her ass..."

"Your friend is a simple soldier for all I know" the mason cut him short. "He's not part of the Crown Council, for all your big talking."

"But he'd know when he'd eaten for the last time, wouldn't he?" Young Turner was enraged now. He'd hoped for a more appreciative reaction to his astonishing news. "An' my master says that the Prince has always had a heart for the poor. Like when he hindered his father's tax collectors from robbing us all of our last coins."

Before the mason could say anything to that, he was interrupted by another man who'd been sitting in the corner silently until now. His once splendid, now somewhat shabby livery designated him as a member of Camelot's staff, the very same man who'd joined the others in their talking a year ago, the day of Uther's announcement of the disastrous Second Purge. "Leave him be, Tom Mason. He's right. There's not enough provisions left in the citadel to feed the rats, two legged or four legged ones. I don't know nothing about Uther 'cept he's vanished, but Matilda's packing and the Barons are sneaking out on her, one after another. A handful of them is staying, 'cause they do not know what else to do. And the Prince has a veritable army outside."

"How would ya know anything about things of state sittin' in your kitchen hole all day long like an ol' rat yourself?" Tom Mason laughed, irritation strengthening his usually carefully suppressed accent.

However, he could not even touch the old servant's superior opinion of his own worth and knowledge. "The high and mighty want to eat an' drink as as the next best man. And someone has to serve the stuff, while all the younger men are outside on the battlements. I'm not deaf, y'know."

Meanwhile Minnie, who had distracted herself by a pleasanter trail of thoughts about possible new deliveries to her cellars and kitchen if the siege was indeed to end any time soon, was struck by another idea. "Osric's ritual my foot" she said. "The Prince is the Prince and to hell with the Gaulish. But Morgana ...some of my neighbours were slaughtered when the witch had her unnatural beasts shoot into t'crowd two years ago."

"An yet she'd be hard put to get as many people killed as her father did _during_ these two years" Turner replied heatedly, his soft spot for beautiful women getting the better of him.

The discussion went on and on, as was the lower town's habit when discussing their very personal views on affairs of state.

When the young, golden-haired, brown-eyed foreigner in the corner thought he'd heard enough he paid his bill and retreated from the premises silently. Only an hour later, he made an equally silent entry into the besiegers' camp, where he was met by the Baron of Ravenclaw.

"Thank the Gods, you're back" the High Master said. "Where ever in the world have you been?"

"Can you scratch my back, please?" was the only reply he got. "Gods, I hate this." The young man's eyes flashed a golden light and his outer appearance changed to a lanky form, black hair and blue eyes. "Next time you need a spy, you'd take somebody else for the job" he said exasperatedly, scratching his arms and shoulders until his frantic nails drew blood.

"What are people saying? What of Matilda's plans? Damn it, speak man." Impatiently Armand caught Merlin's hands. "And stop mutilating yourself like that. If Arthur were to hear about this little mission, we'd all be in hot water."

Twisting and fidgeting, Merlin moaned but he didn't try to pull free, knowing too well that the other sorcerer was perfectly right. "The nobles in the upper town, if they're still there, will most probably trim their sails to the wind, as always. The new Council is divided. Most will do what's necessary to keep their positions and fortunes, no matter whose ass is warming the throne, but some will oppose Arthur."

"Who?"

"Lord Leodegrance, Lord Bayard and Sir Erec."

Morgwyn huffed sarcastically. "I'd thought that much. They all have sons and they all are related to the Dubois; that's exactly why Uther kept a tight rein on them until he took leave of his senses."

"Matilda no longer visits the Crown Council anyway" Merlin continued. "Everything is ready for her departure, even the stretcher for poor, injured Becco. Her troops have got their orders. I think she's serious about leaving."

"You think so? It's not a trap?"

"An empty belly and an empty store room are strong incentives. Camelot is starving. Your spell surely worked a treat. Their very last provisions are spoilt, nothing was salvaged from the rot you caused, even the water is tainted." Merlin spat that out angrily and Morgwyn sighed.

"War is not about keeping your enemy comfortable, Merlin."

"People in there are not my enemies. They're my compatriots and they're my friends."

"Who exactly? The ones who stood by when your other friends were arrested and expelled? Those who made their good fortune on Arthur's expense? Those who fired arrows from the battlements last time Leon and Gwaine tried to bring some of our wounded back to the camp? Or those who'd have your head the moment they recognize you; for the few shillings the palace would pay for it?"

Now Merlin jerked out of Morgwyn's grip, an angry frown on his face. "Let go of me. Maybe you don't care about anyone but I do care about people, at least about the poor wretches in the lower town. Nobody ever asked their opinion before shattering their lives."

"Forgive me, oh saint of the oppressed, saviour of the Druids and all the riff-raff in Camelot's gutter, all hail to the Great Emrys." Morgwyn cocked a brow and smirked. "What do the high and mighty of the lower town think about things?"

"They're mostly willing to give Arthur a chance" Merlin replied, letting the insulting irony wash over him unchallenged for once. "They believe in him and his willingness to bring food on their tables and work to their sheds and shops. But Morgana will have a hard time to win them over. They fear and despise her now as much as they've liked her once."

Armand pricked his ears. Was there an undertone of regret and pity in Merlin's voice? If yes, what did it mean? He decided to follow that track later. It was very promising. "Where is our future Queen?"

Merlin shrugged uncomfortably. "She wanted to hear and see things for herself. We parted yesterday, some hours after we had made it into the citadel. Let's hope she's sitting somewhere, scratching her skin off."

"You _parted_? You left Morgana alone inside the citadel?" Morgwyn did not trust his ears.

"Actually she left _me_ stranded. She said she'd go to the lav' and she did not come back. There was no alert so she must have made it in and out safely."

"_She_ did make it. I'm not a toddler, you know."

Armand rolled his eyes in relief at the sound of Morgana's voice. For a moment he had thought about Morgause's reaction at the news of her sister having got lost inside Camelot. The High Master was startled out of this reverie by a look at Merlin's face. He saw the young warlock's eyes light up and an idiotic grin come to his face. Now that was tale-telling, to say the least.

"_Love's young dreamer_" Morgwyn thought most amused when another part of his plan came true before his very eyes. "_Oh Merlin, what a god-send you are._"

"And it's not as if I had expected a warm and hearty welcome from Camelot" Morgana meanwhile continued, trying her best derisive attitude and almost – almost – succeeding. Instinctively, Merlin reached out for her hand soothingly and for the blink of an eye, she left it to him before she withdrew a step. "What Merlin says is true, though. Arthur will be welcomed by many, but not by all."

Morgwyn was impressed and he showed it openly. "It's amazing what you both could find out in merely 30 hours in Camelot."

"It wasn't that hard" Merlin had to admit. "No one in Camelot, upper or lower town is getting much sleep, everyone is scared and nervous and people chatter on and on about every thought that's on their mind." He shrugged and grinned. "Just as well nobody ever used the invisibility spell you gave us to spy on Gaius and me in the past."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Armand asked back and the grin vanished from Merlin's face as if it had never been there.

"Anyway, it's imperative that we make a very impressive and glorious entry into Camelot" Morgana interrupted them impatiently. "We should keep the magicians in our ranks out of sight as much as possible. People are distrustful of them as much as of magic as a whole. But a powerful show of armour and weapons will impress the cowards in the upper town and in the Council and it will strengthen faith and trust in the lower town people."

It had been her old, authoritative voice, the voice of a woman used to being in command, sister to a future King and a future Queen herself. The hurt Camelot had caused her when she had heard her own disgrace from people's lips was almost inaudible.

Both sorcerers knew her well enough to play along with her act.

"That's how it should be, My Lady" Armand replied deferentially. "Albeit, I fear the Prince might prefer a more... mundane entry into Camelot."

"Leave my brother to me" Morgana snapped. "C'me on, Merlin. The sooner we convince Arthur, the better."

Actually, persuading the Prince to make this entry a really big affair was not as difficult as Armand had thought. Not until they came to some finer details, that was.

"It's impossible, Arthur." Morgause blurted out. "The very idea is monstrous."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a sign of your growing affection for us" Guinivere chimed in. "But pray tell me, why should the decision what my husband is to wear on this occasion be yours?"

"It's a bit peculiar, to think that a King should enter a conquered city and stronghold in his shirt sleeves" Leon added for consideration, most furtively and with a little bow to his Prince and to...to...to whatever Guinivere was these days.

Morgause nodded violently and, still trying to calm herself, emphasised her full consent with Leon's cautious remark with a pointed gesture of her hand towards him.

"Camelot is _not_ a conquered stronghold or city to me" Arthur said sternly. "And I will not make a secret of anything. When we ride into Camelot everybody will be able to have a good long look at the mark I wear, as well as at my sister's presence at my side, at Algernon and the Druids in our wake and at my personal knights, at the knights of the Round Table. And that's final, Leon!"

Both Morgause and the knight snapped their mouths shut; Leon because he'd heard that tone of voice from Uther, the High Priestess because she knew it from her sister's most exasperating moments.

Somewhat gentler, Arthur continued "Naturally that doesn't apply to your followers, Morgause, or to the Ravenclaw, the Saltyre and the other's knights and men." He grinned slightly "I think it's time to release the Branguards. The more great nobles and men we can present in shining armour and polished weapons, the better it'll be."

"I'll see to that" Armand and Merlin said in unison, and so the Council was dismissed with everybody having some chores to do. Although the debate had ended on a more cordial note, nobody seemed very convinced of the results.

Merlin, who once had thought that the aristocratic obsession with clothes, rank and protocol was the most ridiculous thing on earth, had a hard time to convince his knightly friends, especially Gwaine, of the necessity to wear their full dress – their _new_ full dress, which was part of the problem – for the momentous occasion.

"I will not – repeat: NOT! - enter any city with a tree on my chest and a piece of furniture on my shield" Gwaine roared and Leon, glad to finally have come to an understanding with the man on anything, wholeheartedly supported that.

"Actually, it's the other way round" Merlin explained patiently for the umpteenth time. "Please, Gwaine, for my sake. Arthur'll have my head if this goes wrong."

"You're not his darn servant any more" the knight roared back at him "he has no right...by the way, how will you dress up for the occasion?"

Merlin felt he was losing ground in this, and rapidly so. "Me? Oh,never mind me, I'm not so very important, am I?"

"Merlin? What. Are. You. Going. To. Wear?"

The warlock was surrounded by the other knights now, no hope for escape. "I'll wear my jacket. And my neckerchief. I washed it special."

It was no good, of course.

"If we have to be trees and tables, then so will you" Gwaine and Leon decreed and none of the others heeded Merlin's desperately pleading looks. "But I'm no knight, to wear armour would be preposterous..."

"Not the chain-mail, Merlin. Just the wood." Percival was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

And a warlock surrendered to their superior force.

Finally, they all did. Even Algernon, who, remembering his Elders' abhorrence of all military things, had first refused to ride with them at all.

Morgause was preparing her own armour while she watched Morgana roaming through her clothes and dresses until she found a splendid one. Shimmering dark-red velvet with golden silk and lace for trimming. Expensive. Beautiful. And not exactly modest. The younger sister met the Priestess' gaze in the mirror.

"Arthur is right, you know" Morgana answered the unspoken question. "We better start as we intend to go on. We've nothing to hide. Not from anyone!"

Morgause saw her set jaws and glittering eyes. "You'll need a lot of jewellery to go with that kind of dress."

"I just wish I still had my necklace. Really, it was too rude of Morgwyn to ask it back."

Morgana leaned back into Morgause's arms when she hugged her from behind. "You don't need it any more, sister. Trust me."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, Morgana. As the Great Mother is my witness, I do." Morgause watched her sister rummage again through her trunks while she sent a quick, silent prayer to her revered Goddess for forgiveness. Never before in her life had she wished so hard for a lie to be the truth.

Morgana found something, held it high in the air and smiled radiantly. "What do you think of this one? It's for Gwen. The yellow colour should suit her well." Laughing merrily, she left to search for her sister-in-law, making room for Gaius' cautious approach. "May I enter, My Lady?"

"Please do. I can do with someone who does not think of what to wear tomorrow."

"Oh, I'm still undecided, shall I wear my blue robe or the green one with the embroidery?"

"_Gaius!_"

"I'm sorry. I just came to tell you that His Highness is making ready to lead the escort for his Aunt and Cousin" - "_and father_" he only thought, but she heard it anyway.

Morgause's eyes widened; frantically she looked around for her sister's weapons and chain-mail and couldn't find them. "Gaius..."

"Let them be, My Lady. They must see it with their own eyes to know that this is over."

"Morgana. She will..."

"She won't, I'm sure she won't. Not with her brother present."

"_I wish I were_" Morgause thought. But some day or the other she'd be forced just to trust Morgana's ability to restrain her wildness and that of her magic.

She could as well start today.

But inwardly the Most Revered Lady was trembling like a child fearful of the tempests to come.


	28. Long journeys' last steps and the first

**28. Long journeys' last steps and the first**

Arthur's head spun under the assault of an abominable headache. His ears rang from the constant flow of arguments and counterarguments he had been bombarded with until, prompted only by sheer exhaustion, he had given in. Now it wasn't only him together with one or two of his knights and the Ravenclaw and Saltyre soldiers who should form the escort that was to meet with Matilda, Becco and their entourage.

Instead, the escort had miraculously grown in size, in direct proportionality to the aforementioned princely headache.

First of all Morgana had won the verbal duel by insisting that the future Queen could not stay behind. Then, there was Merlin, who had just mounted and stated – indeed, _stated_, without any discussion at all, that his place was at Arthur's side and no mistake. Where Merlin was, was Gwaine, who was usually accompanied by Lancelot, in whose wake inevitably Percy would follow.

Leon and his Prince exchanged an exasperated look, giving silent thanks to the Gods that at least Morgause and Gaius were nowhere to be seen and Arthur took the lead before anything else could go awry.

Naturally his relief had been completely premature.

Before his horse could make the first step, another animal came in its way, a very familiar grey-white mare, with her owner Guinivere in the saddle, followed – small wonder – by her brother Elyan.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Accompanying my husband, husband. It's not so very unheard of."

"Over my dead body!"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid."

Suddenly everybody else was very busy tending to their saddles or horses or clothing or to anything else that gave them an unobtrusive excuse for watching the scene without being obvious about it.

"Guinivere, this could be dangerous. I want you to go back to Margaly, now, and that's an order."

"I'm your wife, not your subject!"

Arthur opened his mouth to defy that, but Leon's warning hand on his hip made him stop. Maybe… it wasn't such a very good idea to deny either of these two facts. "Sweetheart, please, let's not argue. Presently our child needs you more than I do."

Leon, Merlin, Elyan, even Percy closed their eyes in despair, Gwaine shook his head in disbelief, Lancelot paled a bit and Morgana found it was high time to intervene. "Forget it, Gwen" she said "my brother has never known how much looking after he needs. We surely can do with another pair of hands."

Arthur glared at his sister, she smiled at him radiantly. Merlin looked the other way and the Prince resigned to his fate. "All right, let's go then. We're late as it is."

With their jaws set, both carefully avoiding each others' gaze, Gwen and Arthur rode side by side, with the others' eyes burning holes into their very erect backs. The tension was so palpable that the Prince was actually glad when he spotted the entourage slowly approaching from Camelot.

At the agreed meeting point, well within range of the besiegers' troops but outside of Camelot's battlements, Matilda and her nephew met on horseback.

"Arthur."

"Aunt."

Both bowed their heads a bit and that seemed all the courtesy necessary. As far as Merlin and the others were concerned, it was much more than she deserved.

Matilda came straight to the point. "Where is your father?"

"Waiting for you by the river."

The Comtess cocked a brow. "Just like that? No 'thank you for taking him in'? Or at least some demands, an exchange of threats or insults?" She was hiding it well, but she was nervous. Nervous and scared.

Arthur's gaze flickered to Becco's silent form on the stretcher that was hanging between two horses. "It was, correct me from wrong, my impression that you are pressed for time. The escort will provide you with all the provisions and care you need."

Matilda's rigid composure softened almost invisibly. "How far will you accompany us? Maybe you can come all the way to Mardorn harbour?"

Merlin heard the undertone of hope in her voice and pricked his ears. What was that? He flinched when suddenly Morgana bent to his ear. "I bet she'd want Arthur to follow her all they way to Gaul to make sure that we remain faithful to our word."

Quite obviously her brother had come to the same conclusion. "My friends and I will guard you only until you reach the nearest border of Camelot. From there on the escort will see you safely to the harbour and aboard ship."

"What about the medical care for my son? You promised me, Arthur." Matilda was about to remind her nephew of the safe haven she had once meant to offer him and Guinivere in Gaul – at least that's what she called it. 'Prison' was such an ugly word under the circumstances. But she kept her tongue in check. This wasn't the time for pressing any more uncomfortable memories with Uther's wayward boy.

She looked at Morgana and Merlin. "Do you expect me to rely on these two wizards for my son's recovery?"

"Other than you I'm no in the habit of renting out my men. Besides, my sister and my…. advisor have much more important things to do. Baron Ravenclaw has detached one of his best healers to the escort. He'll do perfectly."

Without any more ado, Arthur turned his horse and Matilda had little choice but to follow suit. Merlin was too busy keeping his usual goofy smile off his face. 'Advisor' somehow sounded good. Definitely better than 'manservant'. Now did that mean that somebody else would wash the socks and muck out the stables in future or didn't it?

They approached the river and the bridge in a quick pace. The group of people waiting there was clear in sight when Arthur slowed down his mount. "I think the rest of your company already awaits you" he said to his aunt, inviting her with a wave of his hand to pass him by.

Matilda smiled ironically. "No wish to grant your father some last words of farewell either?"

"You can join your dear brother now in the glade or in a minute in hell. You choose!" Neither Morgana's voice nor her face left room for doubting the seriousness of this announcement.

"You and Uther, you're cut from the same cloth, are you not" Matilda replied coldly.

"Coming from you, dear aunt, I'll take that as a compliment."

The Comtess spurred her horse and finally the whole ménage made it to the river. Arthur wanted to follow the group down to the glade but not even Leon would have that. "That's as close as you and the Ladies should get, Sire."

For once, Arthur was in no mood for another argument. He simply nodded and left it to the original escort to join and surround the travellers. His heart was beating in his throat and his guts were fluttering when he spotted his father at Matilda's side. Reflexively his gaze searched his sister's. Morgana gave him her best reassuring smile but nothing else. she had decided long ago that this was something her brother would have to stomach on his own. So she had not opposed the stupid idea that he would lead the escort; she had simply made sure that she would be there, too.

"They're hugging, Uther and Matilda, would you believe that?" Gwen murmured and Gwaine snorted angrily. "What did you expect? The only honest Pendragon I've ever met is your husband."

"Let's get it over with" Merlin said to his royal friend, while Morgana successfully pretended that she had not heard Gwaine's not very flattering remark.

The ride to the border was more of an ordeal than Arthur would have thought possible. Whether he was behind or in front of Uther, his father's presence was a constant nagging pain in his soul that made him edgy, unendurably snappy and after a short while they all longed for the end of the journey.

It could have been a consolation for the tormented son to know that his father was feeling even worse, much worse. More than once Uther thought about just enforcing this last encounter with his son he wished for, and to hell with the likely consequences. Any chance to finally speak with Arthur before the last opportunity was gone would be more than worth risking one's life for.

The chance came faster than he'd expected. Some time before they reached the border, Matilda brought the whole group to a halt, declaring that Becco was in no fit state to travel on. The already aggravated physician – in truth one of Armand's fellow sorcerers who had, among other, more sinister gifts a talent for healing – was forced to fuss about the young Count once more.

Morgana, visibly at the end of her tether, joined the man; after some argument she took something out of her pocket and gave it to the healer with a few not uncertain words as to how to use it. Uther heard the words "healing spell" and "finally getting somewhere here", but little else, mostly because he didn't care at all if Hortensius was turned into a bat or killed on the spot.

Relying on the fact that everybody was distracted, he drove his horse determinedly towards his son, who, by chance, was waiting at a short distance from the others, doing his utmost _not_ to look into the direction of his father.

After three steps, Uther's horse refused to go any further. The King wanted to shout at his son, call his name, force him to turn round and face him, but try as he might, his voice was gone.

Slowly, very slowly, the King turned and found what he had already expected to see. Two dark blue eyes under a mop of black hair, a stern face showing unrelenting resolve.

Time seemed to slow down, the others faded to shades of grey and suddenly Uther felt that he was, for all the muffled sounds from the escort and the group of future exiles, all alone with the young warlock. "Let me pass" he said. "He's still my child."

"You should have thought of that earlier."

"You have no right to intervene."

"I have all the right I need. _You_ gave it to me. Once, while you still cared, you told me to look out for him."

"I didn't tell you to protect him from _me_."

"Now that you know what you're able to do to him, do you still think I shouldn't?"

"Damn you, let me pass. It's my last chance."

Merlin shook his head slowly. "You will not torment him any further. And that's final."

"You sound like Gaius" Uther snorted. "Pompous and self-important. For the last time, step aside."

"Gaius has always thought your impatience and your temper would be the death of you one day. But I will not allow it to be the death of your son or daughter."

"Something wrong, Merlin?" Gwaine's wary question cut through the mist that had enclosed the counterparts and suddenly everything was back, things and persons moved at their normal speed, colours and sounds were back to normal.

"You two are staring at each other like two moonstruck calves." Gwaine's hand was at the hilt of his sword; Leon and the other knights' attention had by now been drawn to the confrontation. Stealthily they moved their horses between the King and their wizard friend.

"Arthur, please come over here" Morgana called and both her brother and Guinivere rode away to the other end of the row.

Uther saw them leave and gritted his teeth. "_You better be grateful for all these swords between you and me, you sad excuse for a magician_" he thought, inwardly cursing the warlock and his bad luck to the deepest hell that it had been him who had chosen this sorcerer as a servant and companion for his son.

Merlin smiled softly. "I don't need swords to get my way, Uther Pendragon. Such toys I gladly leave to you."

Startled, the King realized that the whole conversation had taken place in his mind. It rattled him thoroughly. Enough for even him to realize that he stood no chance. Enough to prevent any further attempt at getting near Arthur, although the disappointment almost strangled him.

For the rest of the journey Uther waited for his son to make a final effort, but, again, he waited in vain. All the time he kept as much distance to the warlock as he possibly could. As Merlin never left Arthur's side, this was fine with the young sorcerer.

When they reached the border half a day later, the parting was quick and painless, or at least it looked that way. Morgana gave some last instructions to the healer. "Remember, you can use the healing amulet as often as you think necessary" she said, and Armand's liegeman nodded. "I'll make sure that the amulet will accompany the young Count on his journey to Mardorn and all the way home, My Lady."

It took Uther all his strength and self-control not to turn round when Arthur, Morgana and their friends left the escort to return to Camelot. He had never accepted defeat easily and this cold, indifferent parting was the worst defeat he'd ever suffered. "_This isn't over yet"_ he thought feverishly. "_One day I will come back for my son and all that is mine. Nobody will stand in my way then. Nobody. NOBODY!_"

He was still repeating this mantra in his head days later, when they boarded the ship that should bring them to Gaul. The constant fussing about Becco almost drove him mad. "For heaven's sake, Matilda, hang the darn thing around his neck and be done with it. The stone has helped before."

"Your sudden trust in a magical remedy is astonishing" his sister snapped back.

"_I'll kill her_" Uther thought with clenched jaws. "_At the first opportune moment, I'll kill her, I swear it_._ If it hadn't been for her idiocy, Camelot and Arthur'd still be mine. It was all her fault. _"

"Maman, I think we still need him" Becco said to his mother. "My uncle's the only entitlement to the Crown we've left. All our efforts, all these men. It can't have been for nothing."

"Yes, dear, you're right" his mother confirmed and stroked his cheek gently before she rose. "But at the first opportune moment, I'll break his neck, I swear it. But for his idiocy, Camelot had been ours. It was his fault and his alone."

The people around the younger Pendragons had also thought about the former King of Camelot when they had finally left him and the escort that would see him into exile.

Merlin had been a bit worried by his friend's expression. "Arthur? What's the matter?"

"I just thought how glad I am that he's gone." What did it matter that it was only partly true? Old habits die hard, and Arthur's love for his father was an especially resilient plant. It had taken much to damage it; and yet it wasn't uprooted for good. Merlin suspected as much, but even he for once preferred the wishful thinking to the truth.

"Amen to that" Gwen said. "I couldn't agree more."

Her husband grabbed her round the waist and pulled her closer to him, almost dismounting her in the process. "I love you too, you know" he said and began nibbling at her ear.

Merlin found it wiser to give them some privacy.

All the way back, they felt as if a dark cloud was gradually lifting from their souls.

"I don't believe it, tomorrow night we'll be back home" Leon said, a dreamy smile on his lips. "Back where we belong. My family, my friends…."

"All them lovely taverns and the girls" Gwaine replied, grinning like the cat that ate the cream and Leon's shoulders sank while Percy laughed until tears came.

"Merlin, what's the first thing you're going to do when we're home?" Lance demanded to know.

"Ask for a pay rise" the warlock answered.

"Don't get your hopes up" Morgana said. "Camelot's coffers are empty and I need a new dress."

It set six men into roaring fits of laughter and suddenly the easy companionship of earlier years was back, as if the simple joke had cast a spell that needed no magic.

Arthur shook his head and grinned. "We'll make a Queen of her yet" he said.

"Yes. Yes, for sure" Gwen replied, biting her lip, fighting for a smile that took too long in coming for her taste. Ever since her nights with Lancelot, her thoughts had gone round and round in circles, until she felt that she was going mad. "_What if Arthur ever finds out? What if there's a child? What if it looks like Lance?_" With hot, burning terror she remembered what she had declared to her father-in-law while she had still been pregnant with Margaly. That her daughter was not Arthur's child, that she had had intercourse with many men.

It was not true, of course, but who would care, should her affair with Lance become known someday?

She felt the baseness of her thoughts herself, and it was degrading that she should think that way. And yet she knew, knew without the slightest doubt that there was only one way to make sure that she and her children would be safe.

She had seen what Pendragons could do. To other people, even to each other and to their own kids.

She would not let that happen to any child of hers.

So she needed an official title of her own. And her children would be heirs to the Crown. _Her_ children alone, no matter what. For all their newly regained friendship - not even Morgana would be allowed to stand in the way of that.

She smiled into her husband's happily eager face desperately. "_Arthur, I love you_" she thought. "_I love you more than my life_. _I will always love you_."

But deep down inside her she knew that she no longer trusted him completely. With her life, any time. But with the life and future of her children? "_What would you do?_" she asked him in her mind, again and again, without ever coming up with a satisfying answer. "_What would you do to a child that isn't yours?_"

A name had come between them on that score. A name as famous and revered as it was infamous and despised.

_Pendragon_!


	29. One curtain falls another rises

**29. One curtain falls, another rises**

Minnie defended roughly her place in the front line at the cordon that held the many onlookers in check. In the early morning she had risen from her bed to get it and she would not give it up, as this was the very first corner in the lower town the royal procession would pass today.

The 'Captain's widow" had watched Matilda and the other Gaulish march out; nobody would keep her from watching their new rulers marching in. She pushed and kicked and lashed many people with her sharp tongue, until the others finally gave up.

So it was Minnie who had the first good look at the two young Pendragons and their retainers. At first, she was a bit taken aback that the Prince – or King, as she reminded herself firmly – should wear no armour. But the sun was shining brightly, and what it revealed made her forget everything else pretty quickly.

She wasn't the only one who gasped softly at the sight of the mark on the young man's chest. Against that, even Morgana and the young, well known servant girl with the splendid dress and the small child in her lap were uninteresting "_To show it off like that_" Minnie thought. "_How can he_? _It's so very degrading_. _Why doesn't he pretend…._" But all of a sudden she remembered the wooden sign she had hung up in front of her tavern, for everyone to see, and for the first time ever she was ashamed of the cheap lie she had used to cover up the humiliation her husband's desertion had caused her.

It had seemed such a good idea at the time, in fact the only idea that gave her a chance to go on with her life instead of ending it. Now, confronted with an alternative to pretending, with a way to keep one's face by facing reality, she wasn't so sure any more.

Minnie treated herself to a last sceptic look at the new Queen, at the young woman at Arthur's side and at the little girl she held. "_Well, in the Gods' name"_ she then thought, "_if th__e boy can live with it, then so can I_."

Driven by a spontaneous resolve, the landlady pulled the brightly coloured cloth she used as a head scarf off, waved it high up in the air and roared at the top of her voice "All hail to the Pendragons. Long live the King and Queen of Camelot!"

She repeated it until she was hoarse, even though the horses near to her whinnied and pranced nervously. Minnie was used to ruling and controlling a big tavern full of drunken men with that voice of hers and she did not hold back now. While the rest of the crowd was eerily silent, unsure as to what to think of these pups who had chucked out the old wolf by force, Minnie's voice rang from the walls even louder than it already was.

It was vital proof for the fact that most humans go where they're led. After a short while one, two, four, six people followed Minnie's example, mostly friends or customers of hers. Others joined them, just for the fun of the spectacle, but finally the whole lower town cheered the procession with all their power and the more they cheered the more they believed in their own enthusiasm.

"If Kings were made by people's acclamation alone, one could save a lot of money on coronations" Morgause said to Gaius who, for reasons he had kept to himself, had chosen to ride with her. Merlin, naturally, was behind Arthur, one step behind him, not a centimetre more. Where else?

"Perhaps that should be the way a leader is chosen, My Lady."

"We haven't reached the upper town yet" Morgause said nervously. "Let alone the citadel."

"No. But the sound of the lower town cheering us has. And it will have an effect on our more refined circles. If loud enough, the voice of the people always has." He grinned mischievously "It is a well known plight of the upper classes that people can do without an aristocracy, but an aristocrat who can live without the people would be a novelty."

Morgause laughed at that and this laughter was what won her the onlookers' favour. Once the people had made up their mind to accept the newcomers, they greeted them all with unwavering enthusiasm; the young blonde woman at the old, well known Court Physician's side; her retainers in the fine armour and finally even the Druids that followed them.

Hardly anyone in the lower town had seen Morgause during her first 'conquest' of Camelot, so they didn't fear her and Gaius' presence was always reassuring. As for the Druids, there was barely a family in the town that had not, on the one or other occasion, missed their talents for healing or their workmanship, and many otherwise loyal, dutifully magic-fearing townsfolk had cursed their old King for his stubborn persecution of them.

Alas, things grew tense when the Pendragons, Armand of Morgwyn alias Baron Ravenclaw and the two Branguards reached the upper town and the citadel, closely followed by the five knights and the highest ranking liegemen of the three barons.

"Now doesn't that look great" Gwaine murmured sarcastically at the sight of the assembled Crown Council and the palace guards that blocked the entry.

Arthur's raised voice drowned out everything else. "Let us pass! We demand access to this citadel!"

"By whose authority?" the temporary head of the Crown Council asked haughtily.

"I've had enough of this nonsense!" Gwaine said angrily. Sword drawn he rode close to the old nobleman and gnarled "if you're too blind to recognize the lawful heir to Camelot's Crown you can as well go back to your molehill and rot."

"Eh, Gwaine..." Merlin tried to avert the worst, but the enraged knight did neither hear him nor see Arthur's exasperated expression and Morgana's amused smile.

Only Geoffrey's very determined voice saved the situation. "With Your Excellency's permission, this calls for a shorter procedure" the old archivist said and shoved the Council Chairman aside with surprising strength. He lifted a small velvet cushion he held in both hands to Arthur and bowed slightly. "May I present the keys to the citadel to you as the rightful owner, Your Highness."

"But we haven't finished the committal procedure yet" came the indignant interjection from the former speaker, however, for once Geoffrey didn't bother at all. "Sir Gwaine is right" he snapped. "Procedure or no, we all know whom we're talking to!"

Only now Gwaine realized that neither the welcoming committee nor the former question had been meant as a slight to Arthur and his sister. To his mortal humiliation he felt his face and neck flush with a brilliant red and he made haste to sheath his blade as fast as he possibly could. Looking up, he found Merlin roll his eyes at him, which made the mortified knight blush even deeper. Angrily he shrugged "_how the hell was I to know what this nonsense meant_?"

Merlin got the silent message and bit back the small chuckle that was already in his throat. After all, he himself had been warned by Gaius about this only yesterday.

Meanwhile Arthur had dismounted and stepped towards Geoffrey. Gently the Prince took the keys from the cushion before he handed them over to Morgana. Merlin saw Geoffrey and all the others wince and grimace at that, and all merriness left the young warlock.

This might yet be harder than he had hoped and prayed for.

"I thank you, Geoffrey, and you Gentlemen and Ladies of the Court" Arthur now said formally, stubbornly ignoring the all too visible reaction to his sister's presence. Fortunately Morgause had yet to be seen by the upper town's citizens. "The Queen and I request you all to join us in the Throne Room in half an hour. It is our express wish that this unsatisfying situation of interregnum will end today! Geoffrey, you come with us."

Without so much as another look at the high and mighty assembly, Arthur remounted and entered the castle, with the whole procession following him.

Once inside, Leon, who had been thoroughly instructed by his young King, urged the other knights as well as Morgause and a most reluctant Algernon to deploy themselves behind the two thrones, on which Morgana and her brother had taken place.

Barely an hour later, the 'Gentlemen and Ladies of the Court' were dismissed by their new King and Queen. The declaration, coronation, the two oaths – Morgana herself had insisted on taking hers again, as if the first ceremony had never happened – had only taken 30 minutes. The rest of the time Arthur had used to declare his and his sister's will to see the realm come back to prosperity and happiness. A new Crown Council, members chosen by Morgana and himself, would come together in three days time and start work immediately.

But first of all the former besiegers would bring vitals and other provisions into the town. There was to be a two days celebration to honour the momentous event of the new rulers' coronation, for the Court and the whole town. Food, drink and entertainment would be free for everyone.

For one, glorious instant in time, the upper and the lower classes knew no difference in interest, taste or affection; empty bellies now and too long a time of fear and apprehension in the past made brothers of them all. The cheering in the upper town and citadel was as unanimous as it had been in the lower town, and as honest – at least for the moment.

"How shall we live up to that promise?" an aghast Merlin, instinctively falling back into his former role as an ever caring manservant, hissed at Armand at the first possible opportunity. Actually he had pushed the older sorcerer into the King's office to get that opportunity. "Have you forgotten what you've done to Camelot's stores?"

"Do you still take me for a fool, my boy?"

"Don't call me that. I'm not your boy. If I didn't think it to be in Arthur's best interest to cover up for you, I'd never..."

"Save your breath, Merlin. My own stores are full with everything Camelot needs. Otherwise Arthur would not have made this declaration. People will eat and drink themselves sick on what my men can replenish Camelot's warehouses with."

"Let's hope it improves their mood for what is to come afterwards." Merlin flinched violently when Arthur's hand fell on his shoulder. So much for being alone with the High Master. Was there no peace from this prat of a Prince? Hrmph. Prat of a _King _actually. Would take some getting used to.

"And pray what is to come afterwards? Nobody tells me anything these days!" If Merlin had learned one thing from his royal master, it was that taking the offensive was always the best way to defend oneself. Nevertheless he almost doubled over with relief when Arthur's answer showed him that his friend was still oblivious of Armand's little tricks that had hastened Camelot's surrender.

"After all these years close to the Court of Camelot, not even an idiot like you can think that today's ceremonies mean much in the future" the young King said. Merlin winced angrily and had an acid reply ready, which he swallowed after a look at Arthur's haggard face.

"Leodegrance, Erec and Bayard have left before we came and surely Sir Tristan will be the next to leave" Pendragon continued wearily. "And as for their return for the Court Ovation and the confirmation of the fiefdoms….." he shrugged. "We'll have to wait and see if they do."

"Your Majesty should not hope too much for that" Ravenclaw said drily. "But my advice, for all it is still worth, would be to take it one step at a time from here. If they come, all's well and good. If they do not acknowledge your succession, you'll have to teach them a lesson. It's as simple as that."

"There's nothing simple about another civil war" Arthur replied heatedly.

"Let's not talk about the next war today" Morgana had silently entered and now laid her arm around her brother's waist. "Let's just be glad that we all survived the last one. Still seems like a miracle to me."

She looked at Armand and smirked. "And for all my thinking that I'd never say this to you: Your advice is worth a lot. To both of us."

Arthur and Merlin shifted uncomfortably at the unexpected flattery while Armand just shrugged. "As much as Your Majesty's high opinion of me flatters me, it grieves me to say that I can no longer be a part neither of the Crown Council nor of the Court of Camelot."

To his painful surprise, Armand felt slighted and sad when he saw the relief in the three young faces before him. Although he knew he had done many things to earn their basic mistrust, some part of him, the part that had lived as a member of Camelot's community for so many years, watching these three grow into their shoes, had unwittingly hoped for some affection, some real bond between him and these people. Absurdly, stupefyingly, the High Master found that he had thought he'd be missed by those whose arses he had put on a Throne Room cushion. At least a bit.

Obviously, that was not the case.

Arthur's belated attempt at saving decorum did nothing to ease the situation. "I'd be sad to see you leave, My Lord of Ravenclaw."

"As am I, Sire" Armand replied smoothly. "But my mission here in Camelot is accomplished. I have no doubt that magic will return to the realm now, in peace and to everybody's benefit. As the Most Revered Lady is to rebuild the Isle of the Blessed, my place is at her side. After all Her Ladyship cannot be expected to rule the Magic Community alone."

Neither the royal siblings nor the young warlock had any idea what he was talking about but they'd rather be damned before they'd admit that, just as Armand had thought. So Arthur just smiled friendly and nodded. "We can hardly refuse our consent after all you've done for us, My Lord Baron. Pray be assured that the Queen and I will not rest until you're adequately rewarded."

"_So much for your father's assumption that you never listened to him during Council sessions_" Armand thought, smiling inwardly in spite of this sadness he had trouble shaking off. "_You even sound like him sometimes_."

"There's only one reward I really crave, Your Majesties" the High Master said and he suppressed a chuckle when he saw both Pendragons plus a young warlock brace for the inevitable. They still had much to learn. Whoever would teach them how to conceal their thoughts and feelings to perfection, Armand envied neither him nor his pupils the doubtlessly painful lessons.

"I'd be grateful to Your Majesties if you'd consent to me handing over the Ravenclaw estate and title to My Lord Earl of Bodmin."

For a moment, all was silent. Finally, Merlin smiled happily, seeing only the obvious, which was, to him, that this wouldn't cost Camelot one penny piece. His smile went sour when Morgana and Arthur answered in unison "over my dead body."

"I understand that this must come as a surprise to you, Sire, My Lady." Morgwyn was unruffled. "And I understand that the perspective of seeing the two biggest fortunes of the realm in the hand of one liegeman is somewhat disturbing. But nevertheless…."

The discussion was as long, as tedious and as tiresome as Armand had expected it to be, and his only amusement was Merlin, who just found himself a seat behind his royal friend and did his utmost to follow the exchange of legal, financial and military arguments that formed a tremendous quarrel. Finally Armand got his way, while Arthur suffered his first defeat, and a severe one.

So they did not part on very friendly terms and Morgwyn had not much joy from his victory. However, when he walked to his quarters that night, he felt some satisfaction that he had done his best to leave his worldly affairs in order. He could not bring back Angus' family to life, nor his beloved Agnes, he could not make up for the many years of unjust disregard he had brought the Branguards. But he had at least made sure that the vast fortune he had swindled and murdered himself to would finally go to the man for whom it had been meant in the first place.

So when he set out to win the real battle, the one for which he had been preparing ever since he had decided to hasten the Pendragon destiny along, the High Master would not be troubled by old grudges and old guilt. "_It's you and me, Morgause_" he thought. "_Who needs earthly Kingdoms when the only real prize is still to be won_?"

Arthur and Merlin had no idea how very insignificant they were in the High Master's thoughts right now. "Like hell I'll give the Ravenclaw fiefdom to Angus Branguard. I could as well declare the Crown of Camelot being lost and void" Arthur raged. "I'll never do it, never."

Merlin swallowed nervously. In this mood, Arthur was best left in peace, as he well knew, but there was nothing for it. After all, he was thought to be an 'advisor' now, was he not, and as such he should have at least some idea of what was the issue at hand. "But you promised Armand to make Branguard his successor. Besides, where's the problem?"

Arthur lowered his head in exasperation. "The problem is" he said slowly, with careful pronunciation as if he was talking to a complete imbecile "that the Ravenclaw and the Bodmin liege together amount to two thirds of the country; to even more if you look at the annual revenue. To give them into one hand would be tantamount to inviting the Branguards to put a knife at our throats."

Merlin shrugged. "So the solution should be easy enough. You give the Ravenclaw estate and title to the Branguards and Bodmin you give to somebody else. That's how your father handled this, did he not?"

Arthur winced. Of course. Why the hell had he needed somebody else to come up with that? As always, the young Pendragon did not think of blaming the momentary black-out on his exhaustion or his emotional strain or his anger but only on himself and his unsuitability for the task ahead. His reaction was accordingly. "Since when have _you_ become such a political genius?"

But Arthur wasn't the only one who was tired and had had one emotional roller-coaster ride too many. Misreading Arthur's awkwardness for real anger, the warlock made himself small in his seat. Maybe he had not been supposed to know that? Maybe Arthur wasn't in favour of the long talks he and Gaius used to have on Camelot's affairs of state? And maybe, just maybe, he should refrain from mentioning Uther in the future.

Anyway, it occurred to Merlin that it was once more time to take the offensive. "I've never been an idiot, you know? You can as well stop treating me like one."

"For heaven's sake don't be such a girl, Merlin." Arthur paced to and fro for a moment, lost in thought. "It's true enough that I'll have to hand out fiefdoms to bind the noble families to me and the new rule. And Branguard will be sufficiently blinded by the Ravenclaw title to let go of the Bodmin estate willingly." He stopped in mid-stride. "That's a good opening for the first Council session. The others will discuss that at great lengths, and they will forget anything else but the question of who will be the next Earl of Bodmin. Where the hell is Morgana?"

To Merlin's eyes, the young King was visibly satisfied with the fine solution _he_ had come up with. "I don't know" the warlock answered, silently abandoning all hope that he'd ever get the appreciation and credit he deserved. "She left a while ago and didn't come back."

"Go and fetch her, will you? We must concert our opinion on this, or the Council will tear the notion apart."

"It's after midnight, Arthur. Everybody else is roaring drunk or asleep by now. You should be too, you know."

"What, drunk or in bed?" Pendragon suppressed an affectionate smile with an effort.

"With your wife and knights and friends, celebrating. This _is_ your coronation day, you clotpole."

"I thought I was with a friend already."

Merlin felt a red hot heat wash over his neck and face. He did not know where to look. For years and years he had waited for this special moment, for this one word. Never in all this time had he thought about what to say or do when it finally came.

"Come on, idiot" Arthur let his hand crash down on the other's shoulder. "I'll buy you a drink."

"I thought you cannot afford to be seen buying your servant a drink!"

"As you said, when I'm King I can change things. And you're not a servant any more."

Merlin's big eyes and strained face were an open book, full of emotions, and that was more than Arthur could stand right now. Shoving the warlock out almost forcibly Pendragon said "that was a very good piece of advice, you know."

The young King waited for the familiar goofy smile to spread on the vulnerable features before he added "at least for an idiot."

"You are still a prat, you know, and I really have no idea how I could ever cope with you…." Merlin's voice echoed down the corridor while he was half accompanied half forced to join the celebrations in the main hall.

Already on the hall's doorstep, the King's strong grip firmly on his arm, Merlin suddenly stumbled. His head spun and his stomach heaved under a sudden surge of powerful magic. "Arthur, wait!"

"What is it? Hey, what's the matter? You look as if you had seen a ghost."

The wizard strained his ears as well as his magical senses, but there was nothing else. "It's all right" he finally said. "I must be imagining things."

"Aren't you always?"

A second later, the merry hurly-burly of the ad-hoc coronation party engulfed them both and for the rest of the night, they both drifted from Gwaine to Lance, to Gaius, to Geoffrey and to all the others who celebrated the simple fact that they were still alive and could, for one blessed night, believe that their tribulations were over.

It was in the small hours when Gwen and her husband, for once hardly able to keep up his eyes, finally made it to their bedchamber, that is, to Arthur's old rooms. Without so much as one word they had both known that Uther's chambers were off limits.

His Majesty curled up under the blanket at once, digging his head violently into the pillow twice, as he always did, and Gwen smiled fondly. "For such a grown-up King you can be very childish" she said. No reaction. Gently she bit his ear. "You are so sweet sometimes, you know that?" But Arthur was already beyond knowing or hearing anything.

Guinivere tried to find some sleep too, but found that she could not. It was so very strange to be back in Camelot. Stranger even to lie in this bed again, where she had once felt like an illegal intruder, in spite of Arthur's insistence that she had every right to be there. Idiotically, she felt even more like an imposter now.

Eventually the restlessness drove her out of the bed and she decided to have a look at Margaly, whose bed had been put up in the next room.

Guinivere's blood ran cold when she could not find her daughter there. As a shadow moved on the room's balcony, Gwen rushed outside, a heavy silver vase as the first available weapon ready in her hand.

"For the Gods' sake, Morgana, what are you doing here?" Gwen almost fell as her knees turned to jelly at the sight of her sister in law with little Margaly sleeping peacefully in her lap.

"I could not sleep" Morgana replied carelessly. "I thought I might have a look at her; she was awake and I thought she should not disturb you." With quick movements, which didn't really suit her casual attitude, she stuffed something away, into her pocket.

"That's pretty" Gwen said. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing really. A pendant. Some trinket I've had for some time. Like a good-luck charm."

"It looks like the amulet you gave to Becco when we left him and…. the others."

"Yes, it does. A bit. Funny. I never noticed."

Hesitatingly Gwen stepped closer and found that Morgana had wrapped up her niece in her coat. "You must be freezing in this flimsy dress of yours. Come inside."

"Yes. Yes, I think I should."

It was Morgana who brought Margaly back to her bed and Gwen marvelled at the gentle, loving ways this woman had with the little girl; ways Uther's daughter had with nobody else.

"Arthur's sleeping?"

"Yes" Gwen replied. "Out as a light."

"Good. That's good."

"Morgana, what's the matter with you? You look as if you could sleep on your feet. Why haven't you been at the feast? We've all missed you."

"I'm sorry. I had something to do. Something I could no longer postpone."

While Guinivere wondered what on earth could have been that important, on this day of all times, Morgana once more stroked Margaly's sleep-hot face. "Did you see the people today?" she asked and laughed a bit. "I think they do not like me much."

Suddenly she turned back and Gwen reflexively recoiled a bit at the sight of the fierce face. Morgana had always been pale, but now her eyes were virtually burning in contrast to the white skin. "Gwen, did I ever tell you how I felt when Gorlois died?"

"No, not in so many words. Not really."

"I thought I'd die too. I thought I'd lost everything that ever belonged to me, everything _I_ had ever belonged _to_. I'll never feel like that again. No matter what happens, I will not allow any harm to come to Margaly, or to my brother, you or my sister – I will not lose one of mine again, d'you hear me?"

"Morgana, you're overwrought. It was a horribly long day. Go and sleep it all off. You'll need your wits about you tomorrow."

Gwen forced herself to hold still when the Queen embraced her, almost crushing her in the violent hug. "Tonight I've made sure that we'll all be safe" Morgana muttered. "I've made many mistakes in the past and maybe my magic is not all what it should be, but I can still be a Queen for Camelot, and for my people, I promise."

Gwen wasn't proud of it but when finally the antics in the next room were enough to bring Arthur back to his feet, she could have cried with relief. Luckily the brother was able to bring Morgana to her bed before he fell back into his own with a groaned "the first one to wake me before lunching is served will be executed."

"What was the matter with her?" Gwen asked. "Arthur? I'm talking to you!"

"Dunno. Something about her protecting us. And Camelot. 'Maybe I cannot heal or be friendly but at least I can fight' or something like that. You know her. She's got an idea in her head and it has to run its course before she forgets it. One thing is certain; Margaly is much safer with her than with an army of knights. Who would've thought it possible."

The rest was snoring.

Guinivere pondered the mysterious events a bit longer but eventually comfortable warmth radiated from Arthur into her tired body. She snuggled up to him, closed her eyes and finally went to sleep.

The next few weeks were very busy for all of them, filled with small successes and big setbacks, some surprising loyalties in places where one would hardly ever have expected them and some painful human disappointments.

Secretly Arthur thought of his predecessor sometimes, especially of Uther's distrust and paranoia, and how these character features may have had something to do with such experiences. However, when it became clear that the new King and Queen were facing not only sound opposition to some of their plans but an outright, possibly life-threatening rebellion, neither sibling had much time for philosophical considerations.

The messenger who brought the news from the Gaulish coast to Camelot had trouble finding someone who introduced him to the young King.

Instinctively Merlin and Gaius both stepped a bit closer to him when Arthur, ghostly pale but with a stony face, listened to the report of how the ship that had carried his father, Matilda and Becco to Gaul had perished in an abominable storm that had come right out of the blue. Two from 45 sailors had brought the news back from Gaul to Albion shores. According to their report, there had been no other survivors. All the others, crew and passengers, were dead.

This time it was Morgana who had to calm her brother while the others kept their distance, more than one being irritated by Arthur mourning his relatives at all.

Naturally most people were too clever to voice this opinion in Merlin's earshot; the few who weren't found that the apparently meek and always friendly young man could develop quite a nasty temper.

Day to day work and the challenge of keeping a realm together that, once again, was coming apart at the seams, left Arthur and his friends little time to give in to their grief or chagrins and when the Court Physician officially announced that the King's wife was once more pregnant, the talk of the day left the ship's disaster for good.

It seemed as if the once great King of Camelot, the nemesis that had once overshadowed and haunted so many lives, would be forgotten in an instant, like a mayfly that lasts a day and then no more.

Only Gaius had trouble to banish Uther Pendragon from his thoughts.

With Merlin being run off his feet, more than he had ever been as a servant, the old healer decided to come to terms with his life-long friend's death alone.

After a while, a thought nested in his brain and could not be expelled. In one long sleepless night, he decided to get to the bottom of this, if only to lay his mind at rest.

Gaius lit a torch and climbed down to the castle vaults when everybody else was fast asleep. Neither the guards nor the locked doors of the treasure stores posed a problem to the experienced magician.

Once inside the chambers, he searched for and found a small, jewelled box with an ancient inscription:

_He who wields me_

_May well fight_

_Death's evil purpose, illness' plight_

_He who wields us _

_Should beware_

_Of darkness' fright_

_And tempest's scare_

Two pendants, identical twins, each one alone a healing item of impressive strength. Bind their powers together with a magician's spell, and they could do so much more. Like call in a storm that laid waste to everything within its reach.

Reluctantly, Gaius stroked the finely chiselled engravings of the precious box, but then he pulled himself together and opened the lid determinedly.

He inhaled sharply. Where two beautiful, expensive looking jewels should have been, only an empty velvet cushion was left. The box was empty.

"_Morgana_" he thought sadly. "_I should have known_."

And there wouldn't even be a funeral.

After all no one had found a body that could be laid to rest.

_**Finis**_

**A/N:**

**Don't kill me because I left so many loose ends untied with this last chapter. This story isn't over yet; I only thought that after almost 30 chapters and 140.000 words, a break would be adequate. **

**I promise to start the sequel immediately and it will catch up on every loose shred of this story. Big promise.**

**Please stay with me and keep some reviews coming.**


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